


Akaashi Keiji's Art of War: How to Survive University and other aggregated problems

by waterwalls (meteoricblue)



Series: All is fair in war, in love, on campus and against the volleyball club [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - College/University, Attempt at Humor, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Gossip, Humor, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Like a lot of alcohol, M/M, Underage Drinking, WAIT i set this in the US and i realised theyre all probs underage drinking?????, a mention to bear grylls and blood?, an OC cheats on another OC together with another OC, background fwbs kurotsukki that goes south real quick, campus shenanigans, everyone starts out annoying, gratuitous reference to tobey maguire's spiderman, no beta we die like our hopes and dreams, on purpose interior design disasters (it will physically hurt), slight onesided enemies to lovers/acquaintances towards the end, some cursing and mentions of sex but nothing explicit, when i say everyone starts out annoying i mean it including Akaashi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-13 22:41:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28661151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meteoricblue/pseuds/waterwalls
Summary: Akaashi Keiji has a list.And it's not just any 'list', it's a University Survival Guide he lives by religiously. All just to avoid getting sucked into the vortex of madness the typical university life brings about.But Akaashi's survival plans get uprooted with one major yet baffling event: the rigging of student's rep elections.(In which: Akaashi understands campus politics better than anyone should. Somehow he drags his friends along for the ride and executes a student's version of a coup.)
Relationships: background Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, background Sakusa Kiyoomi/ Miya Atsumu, implied future bokuaka
Series: All is fair in war, in love, on campus and against the volleyball club [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2106216
Comments: 4
Kudos: 12





	Akaashi Keiji's Art of War: How to Survive University and other aggregated problems

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is inspired by actual shit that went down in my university and high school, this is merely a more over the top satirized version. lol. I was a member of the students council in hs. I have seen, heard and done a lot of absurd stuff.  
> I've set this in US bc i needed a more ridiculous place than my birth country&the other country i studied in and there's no place more perfect than US lmao  
> I was drunk on irish cream when I wrote this pls be kind lol  
> I didn't make Iwaoi childhood bffs for plot points oops. I swear I love Oikawa with my entire heart and I’m currently writing something else that is doing him better justice, this is more like an outside, offcourt perspective that doesn't quite grasp the complexities of his being and as a result : Satan incarnate gets born from those ashes.  
> Pls enjoy I had too much fun letting my brain just run wild and write whatever

  
  
  
  
  
  


_From:_ **_Daniel Leclerc_ ** _ < _ _daniel.leclerc69@univ-uncl.com_ >

 _To: **Akaashi Keiji** < _ _akaashi.kei@etu.univ-uncl.com_ _ > _

_Date: Tuesday, November 13th, 2019, 4:22:03 AM PST_

_Subject:_ **_Followup regarding last night’s incident and measures against on-campus delinquency_ **

_Dear faculty staff and students,_

_I would like to offer an update regarding the room at the front of Olympus building that has been illicitly seized and occupied by alleged students of this university for the past two and a half months._

_By university regulations, students are not allowed to sleep on campus overnight. Effective immediately, rest assured, we will take security measures to ensure that it will not be happening again._

_I have the responsibility to inform you that the fire these trespassers have caused in the late hours of last night has resulted in the disappearance of the entirety of fire extinguishers on campus (the gyms being the exception to this rule). We will ensure our fire extinguishers are up to date and renewed as of tomorrow morning._

_I am unfortunate to inform you that subsequently, because of the high risk of a fire hazard due to the unpredictable nature of the students currently occupying the campus, and the unfortunate lack of means to prevent them; the totality of on-site courses taking place today are thereby cancelled. Although they are not directly affected by this saddening event, sports clubs’ practice can still occur as usual if the coaches so desire to._

_As for the urban art the offenders have managed to paint on the entirety of the Athena faculty’s exterior, we have analyzed the amounts of effort it took to complete and we have decided to keep it in place; although a bit distasteful due to the color schemes, it is indeed a testament to youthful hard work and dedication to paint over a three story building with no scaffolds._

_These perpetrators will be therefore evicted from the premises. Consider this announcement as both a warning for the future measures we are considering and an eviction notice. The perpetrators are hereby asked to remove the totality of stolen IKEA objects, camping and circus devices that reside on university property, promptly. Or contrary, our cleaning staff are charged with their disposal over three days starting this Friday due to their sheer amount and overall weight._

_Thank you all for your patience and understanding during the past two very tumultuous months._

_Cordially,_

_President of University of Northern California,_

_Daniel Leclerc_

**PART I. ALL IS FAIR ON CAMPUS AND AGAINST THE VOLLEYBALL CLUB**

If Keiji has learned anything over the course of the last year and two months of university, is that he needs rigorous rules to make it out alive. 

From the very ashes of this thought, the Art of War was born. 

And in Keiji's own rendition of the Art of War, but university edition, the first law takes a capital spot in his survival ideology: to avoid someone means you need to know who to avoid. 

Subsequently, Keiji put his photographic memory to good use. By the end of his freshman year he knew by name half the students and all of the faculty staff by heart. This gargantuan effort also implied being more familiar than he wished with the sports teams, a fact he didn't quite realize at that time would come in handy in the most dreadful, unexpected of ways.

Then disaster struck his sophomore year during the students' representative elections. 

Someone had obviously rigged them. 

Because somehow, Keiji Akaashi the hermit crab, the please-let-me-die-in-my-own-hole-of-solitude-and-despair, the introvert, the hater of too much noise, Keiji, who hadn't even signed up nor promoted his supposed ‘campaign’ suddenly found himself as the student's representative. 

Keiji swears on anything dear to him if he finds the perpetrator… He doesn't exactly know what he'll do to them. Keiji will figure it out eventually. Or his friends will figure it out, doesn't really matter, something _will_ happen to them.

On that nefarious Tuesday morning when the Pres' erratic email adorned the insides of Keiji's inbox, he had a seven AM call with the Dean of students. Followed by a call with the Pres. Followed by multiple calls with the rest of the board. Followed by a call with the security staff. These calls more than anything tattooed a migraine into his brain while sealing his fate away to eternal despair at the very same damn time. 

From the very beginning, their university was built on contractions and a head-scratching logic. 

It was by no means a bad university, they were constantly in the top rankings, to the point that outsiders wouldn't even believe the weird occurrences that happen on the daily in their campus.

Named UNCL, University of Northern California, is actually in Central California, in Fresno. UNCL is a rather large, encompassing university from humanities to hard sciences to degrees in the arts of circus. Why was it named UNCL and not UNC or even UCC is a continuously baffling world wonder to this very day; and for which the reason Keiji has long stopped trying to figure out the ever expanding black hole of mysteries that surrounds the life on campus. It’s just accepted, believe and do not doubt, fact. 

If weird stuff can happen, it will happen. 

  
  


As a result, Keiji had no choice but to make his way to the gyms, because of course, they weren't going to cancel sports clubs practice. Typical.

The very people who voided the campus of fire extinguishers for an inexplicable reason, didn’t get rid of the gym ones, for an explicable reason. Besides this absolutely incriminating fact, this made Keiji even more annoyed at the identity of the criminals since it was obviously _them._

Keiji didn't need more than two seconds to come to the conclusion that there were only very few distinct people who could be responsible for the magnitude of the incident. And unfortunately, every single one of them were part of the volleyball club. 

Surprisingly and unsurprisingly, neither the Pres nor the Dean cared that much who occupied the Olympus building and who painted all over Athena, only the fire was the concern. Keiji doesn’t know if the Pres just gave up fighting losing battles or just decided his job was more of a keep-the-appearances kind of deal.

And they weren’t in their usual gym, dammit, where could they be? 

Keiji goes in circles around the sports section of the campus until he spots several familiar figures in an unfamiliar location. Keiji sees the coach and the assistant coach, Mr. Villin and Mr. Tuffin in one corner and the players running drills on the field. Why they were on the football field and where the football players were, Keiji doesn’t know and doesn’t want to know. He just stares at their odd behavior coaxing himself into neutrality, he refuses to be confused at their confusing practices.

If Akaashi Keiji could compare the volleyball team with anything, it would be an onion. 

It begins with an exorbitant amount of dirt, then an annoying amount of cleaning and cutting and then after you went through all these trials and tribulations it dared to make you _cry._ Because nothing is ever enough and being extra is just another side effect of it all, just like volleyball players. 

And now Keiji has to willingly and unwillingly throw himself to the predators just to be eaten alive. Unlike Daniel in the lion’s den who had an angel saving his ass from an utter and indubitable demise, Keiji does not possess this kind of luck. His angel, which comes by the name of one Hajime Iwaizumi, noped out of this saga not even thirty seconds after the Pres’ email hit his inbox. 

How was Hajime this fast and why was he awake to read the email at 4 am, Keiji doesn’t know and doesn’t want to know. 

All Keiji knows is that his dear friend and roommate does not want to be caught in the clear webbings of one persistent Oikawa Tooru (who has a two thousand five hundred and twenty three percent chance of being the mastermind of all this madness). 

The volleyball club was well known for the inner machinations which gave birth to the weirdest of happenings. At the forefront of it all Bokuto Kotaro, captain of the volleyball team, was always there; meanwhile in the shadows of it, Oikawa Tooru, vice captain and major migraine, was its invisible hand. This man had put Adam Smith’s entire life’s work to shame multiple times in just two years and a couple of months at UNCL through sheer pride and otherworldly persistence. And by "otherworldly" Keiji doesn't mean ethereal, but rather the deepest, darkest, scariest pits of fiery fucking hell that one could muster to envision. That place was probably Oikawa Tooru's vacation spot of choice every time he was done torturing every single puny human through his sole existence.

Keiji lets his shoulders hunch, walking towards the coaches’ bench. 

He doesn’t have to worry about the players seeing him, if there was one good thing about the volleyball team is that they are focused enough not to care about anything else while practicing; and the two people who had enough awareness, Komori Motoya and Ushijima Wakatoshi were his allies, unlike the rest of the bunch.

Mr. Tuffin spotted him first. He smiled kindly and quickly went back to yelling at the players. Mr. Villin, the head coach, when he finally spots Keiji he draws him in and sighs dramatically. He, with a sympathetic smile, starts tapping his shoulder like a woodpecker would drill holes in a tree. 

Keiji does not need Mr. Villin's sympathy. 

The only one needing sympathy is himself as his wife has been continuously sleeping with his assistant coach for the past couple of years, another well known fact on campus among the most knowledgeable of ears. Keiji could almost pity him, if he wasn't such a lax character that let the volleyball team do whatever they wanted, to get away with anything and made the assistant do most of the actual on-hand training, on top of constantly asking for too much funds and running dry any other club that might need financial help.

“Let me guess.” Mr. Villin winks. “You're here to act like police or Sherlock Holmes or whatever and piece together what went down yesterday.” The coach says with a smirk and an obnoxious snap of his fingers. 

“Yes, sir.” Keiji grasps unto every single piece of patience he still owns with a death grip, just so he won't scowl at Mr. Villin's nonchalance. "If I may speak after practice with Bokuto Kotaro?"

"He's all yours. For all I know he needs to get knocked back a bit he's been quite a lot even for himself lately. Oikawa too, if you have time for him." Mr. Villin says with a dumb smile that Keiji wishes to wipe right off his face.

 _Oh great. Fantastic. Why do I have to put him in place? You’re the damn coach._ Once again, he is reminded why he is a petty, vengeful bitch that will let the wife do as she damn pleases.

Keiji forces a smile then retreats himself up on the benches in hopes of hiding away from the rest of the team. Why they were practicing on the football field instead of their normal gym is still unbeknownst to Keiji and he would like to keep it that way.

Keiji fiddles on his phone, spamming Hajime’s chat every five minutes with the middle finger emoji for leaving him alone with the sharks up until he hears the last whistle of the morning practice. He sighs and sends a last “pray for me” in the groupchat that was met with several gifs with soldiers saluting. 

With one more lingering groan, Keiji descended towards the lockers.

“I’m the student’s rep Akaashi Keiji. Hello, Bokuto.” Keiji extends his hand to shake the captain’s, who respond in tow with a fervent shake that waggles the entirety of Keiji’s body in place. When he lets go of his hand, Keiji wonders if he went through a miniature earthquake that made his shoulder ascend from its mortal form into pudding. 

“Please call me Kotaro, ‘kashi.” Bokuto smiles, ever so innocently.

“No. Thank you Bokuto, and my name is Akaashi. Shall we?” Pointing towards the bench he is seated on, urging the captain to sit in front of him.

“How come I've never seen you before?” Bokuto asks curiously.

Akaashi raises an eyebrow unimpressed. _And that streak would have been extended if it weren’t for the damned elections._ "Maybe I wanted to live in peace for as long as possible."

Bokuto stares at him, ignoring his remark. He bursts out in laughter. "Man, you're a riot 'kaashi!"

“I wouldn’t exactly compare myself to a violent disturbance of peace,” _Unlike you and the other two thirds of your Terrible Trinity._ “But thank you, Bokuto.”

“Oh. Are you seeing someone?”

Keiji refrains from glaring at the man in front of him, coaxing an impassive expression. “Yes.” _Your mom_. “I am happily in a long term relationship.” _With my hand._

“Oh. Ok.” Bokuto crosses his arms and pouts. “If you ever are single, I’m always here!” He says childishly with the brightest of smiles. 

If only he knew that Keijii had already pseudo killed him in forty one different ways just in the past thirty seconds. 

The first twenty-two ways were extraordinarily messy and involved lots of spilled blood but then Keiji was reminded of one of his two roommates, Sakusa Kiyoomi, despised messes and those plans were thereby scratched. The following fourteen methods involved poison from the chem labs, again, difficult to gain access without Bokuto’s sidekick finding out. As a result, the only ways still available implied mind lasers, capes of invisibility, asteroids, tarot cards and twitter witches (Frightening people, Keiji can easily add. Suna Rintaro managed to get a witch angry and that very same night he broke the main water pipe in his kitchen and four different angry Marylin Monroe impersonators popped out at his door, terrorizing him. That day was objectively not a fun one at the dorms).

“Bokuto, do you perhaps know what happened during the weekend on campus? I heard there was this huge fire.”

“Well… we kind of made a bonfire using library books because it started getting cold and we were really, really cold." Bokuto explains. "And you know? Getting sick is not exactly a good idea right now, the volleyball season is barely starting. And we were thinking what could we use? Originally we wanted to use chairs or to cut a tree, but chairs had metal legs and we didn’t have a tool to cut trees. Somehow we forgot to steal an axe last time we went to IKEA. So, old books that no one actually needed, it was. We didn’t burn stuff needed for research and for students, don’t worry.”

Keiji blinks away the urge to roll his eyes all the way into the back of the skull. He takes a deep breath. Where should he even begin? 

“Please don’t bring an axe on campus, Bokuto.” No one wants a Texas Chainsaw Massacre spoof to be even at an arm's length of possibility of occurring on-campus. And damned Keiji be if he lets that happen. “I think I got lost there somewhere, Bokuto. Why exactly were you and your… 'crew' present on campus during hours when you should not have been?”

Bokuto pauses at that and starts loudly humming, like an old computer trying to process a program five times it’s CPU capacity. And when Bokuto does, indeed, start talking, Akaashi just wishes he had just left. Because in hindsight, the fact he has gotten this much out of him was a miracle all in itself. 

“You know? Have you ever sneezed mid hiccup? Basically that is how I'd sum up this whole thing. Not bad, not exactly pleasant or life changing but, bro, it changes your whole world perception. Cause one moment you're living your normal life and the next you do something so _weird,_ so out of the ordinary... you might just wonder how it would be. How would it be to do the extraordinary yourself, you know?"

...is Bokuto Kotaro a secret genius or is he dumb? Keiji doesn't know and doesn't want to know.

Keiji who could already feel the incoming headache, he sighs audibly. "Bokuto, I don't think this has anything to do with the fact you decided to have a rogue campfire in the middle of the campus using precious library books like it was a Day After Tomorrow scenario, when it obviously wasn't."

“But it was! Else how would we explain all those The Day After Tomorrow memes?"

"You made them yourself with a retrowave app."

He waves it away with a laugh.

Keiji stops and pinches the top of his nose with a deep scrunch. He tries not to glare _too much_ at the man in front of him.

“Really.” Bokuto's hands come up. “Tetsu said if we were gonna spend the night, it might as well not be like, _super cold_ . And we decided to make a bonfire and we couldn’t exactly cut down a tree, as I said we forgot the axe. The books were the next best thing, we really thought this through. Even Tooru agreed!” _Did you really think? Really?_

"You destroyed the records. Now the university has to redo all the security measures, accounts and money related documents on top of rewriting all student records."

"See, it wasn't anything important per se."

Bokuto Kotaro was the very definition of an acquired taste. 

Keiji can swear if he opens the dictionary a picture of him would pop up right there, with a wide smile holding some random gang sign whose meaning Keiji doesn’t even begin to grasp. 

Let's compare him to Roquefort cheese. Bokuto Kotaro was a weird stinky moldy cheese and no one could do anything but smell it _everywhere_ no matter what. Because _someone,_ going by the name of Oikawa Tooru, starting setter and Marquis de Sade's evil twin's reincarnation _,_ had the fantastic idea to leave him in charge of the “official'' university Facebook group and Instagram page 𑁋 the Official Unofficial UNCL Owl Watching Club 𑁋 and he, Bokuto Kotaro, owlstan420hoot and _meme master extraordinaire_ was responsible for at least 80% of the current inside jokes their university had.

Now you might wonder, what about the other 20%? That is an easy answer: you should have not wondered at all. As now we must address the very existence of one Kuroo Tetsuro, renowned middle blocker and naturally born agitator. 

He is the vinegar to Bokuto's baking soda, the water to his alkali metals, the mentos to the coke. If Bokuto was bad enough all by himself, adding Kuroo Tetsuro to the mix was nothing less than a literal recipe for disaster. In fact, if there was a man who owned a non figurative book full of literal recipes for disaster, Kuroo Tetsuro might as well be this very man. Whatever dumb idea Bokuto might come with gets doubled with Kuroo's recklessness and lack of self-conservation, the fact he was a chemistry student was nothing if not another sprinkle on C4 on top of a TNT bomb.

An example can very well be the Elephant Toothpaste Incident featuring one Oikawa Tooru and its unfortunate aftermath; it was a rather historical moment for the UNCL campus. It was the very instance which convinced Sakusa Kiyoomi, the most truthful of humans, to turn to the Dark Side of being a shrewd liar and Keiji hasn't known peace since. 

He vividly recalls Kiyoomi's expression reminding him of Heath Ledger's Joker in more ways than one.

All things considered, Kuroo Tetsuro can very well be a sadist and a masochist all rolled into one to create a twisted, modern-day version of Marie Curie. But instead of slow and painful death due to constant radiation exposure, Kuroo Tetsuro’s brain cells die little by little with each concussion triggered by the explosions or implosions he causes.

The fact Keiji will most likely have to speak extensively with such a human, makes his skin crawl. Keiji wishes that he could just dig up a hole and hide in it for the duration of the rest of the school year.

Keiji rubs his temples with his eyes closed. He's afraid he is going to dig all the way into his skull at how much he had to repeat this action in the past twenty minutes. 

He stares with an incredulous look at his phone. Barely 10 minutes have actually passed. Keiji really might just die. Or end up in jail; and frankly the latter is suddenly looking rather tempting.

“Another question, do you know what happened to the fire extinguishers? Cause they didn't disappear from the gyms only the entire rest of the campus.”

“Ah. I think Tetsu or Tooru know. They disappeared at some point and when they came back they were covered in foam like the Michelin man.”

Keiji dreadfully realizes he absolutely needs to talk with the others. It’s a higher chance of getting real information from them than Bokuto, even though they had worse personalities by a tenfold.

Keiji is not quite ready to approach the mad scientist, Kuroo himself nor Oikawa, the grey eminence; he would rather delay these scenarios as much as possible. 

Once you are on Terrible Trinity's radar, you are forever on it. It’s like they discover a new chemical element that they necessarily need to execute all possible experiments on it, no matter the consequences or annoyance they may cause. 

_Who should he talk with now?_

"Thank you for your time, Bokuto. Are you familiar with where I might find Tsukishima Kei?" Keiji says as polite as one in his position could still muster.

“Oh, just go back to the dorms. He's been promoted to RA or something, something. He’s doing something with papers last I heard.” _Extraordinarily helpful, Bokuto, but it’s better than nothing_. 

“Thank you for your time, Bokuto.”

“No problem. If you ever want to grab a coffee?” He squeaks disgracefully with a healthy blush in his cheeks. "I'll be here."

Keiji sighs. "Maybe one day. Good things come to those who wait, Bokuto.” And even better things come to those that know when to tactically retreat, as stated by Keiji’s twenty second law of Art of War.

Keiji doesn’t go straight back to the dorms, firstly he takes a detour to the cafeteria.

It is a spot that is somehow particularly attractive to the saner one out of the Disaster Duo the Miya twins represent. Volleyball heads themselves from birth, Miya Atsumu and Miya Osamu are… well. They are. Let's just leave it at that.

But Keiji once again is reminded that while luck is relative, his luck is missing in its complete totality.

Once he arrived in the cafeteria, chatting with the staff were both pieces of a puzzle that Keiji did not want to see complete. It's true while puzzles are meant to have all its pieces in place, if that said puzzle triggers upon completion an Indiana Jones-esque reaction in its wake then it was better for the collective sake of humanity if it was never complete in the first place.

But such thoughts are just excuses to keep Keiji from approaching the impending disaster in front of him: Miya Osamu quietly volunteering behind the counter, working with the staff and Miya Atsumu laughing like a maniac about god knows what, maybe he was laughing at the air and it still wouldn't be far fetched for him.

“Hello, Miya, Osamu. How are you today?”

Atsumu catches his face between the palms of his hands and half-asses a smile. “Hey! Keiji! Yer not gonna say hi t'me too?”

“I did, Miya.”

“Yer callin ‘Samu Osamu and me, Miya? That’s mean.”

Keiji offers him a nod and a tight-lipped smile. 

“Hi, Keiji. How may I help?” Osamu responds as delightfully as always.

“I have a few questions, if you don’t mind? It's about what happened this weekend?”

Osamu gapes in understanding, offering a sympathetic smile. “Ah. I wasn’t ‘here, I was away for a job down south, sadly. But ‘tsumu was, weren’t ya?”

“Yup I was. Keiji,” Atsumu smiles with his usual wicked smile and Keiji hasn’t wished in his life more to just drop dead. 

Keiji takes a deep breath. In and out. “Do you know anything, Miya?”

Atsumu’s face twists in a painfully impish grin. “Well, well, well. Wouldn’t ya like to know?”

Keiji stares at him poker-faced. “Nevermind. Thanks very much for your time, Osamu.” 

“Sorry I couldn’t help more.”

Atsumu stares at him agape “Hey! You can’t just𑁋”

“No problem, Osamu. It was nice seeing you.”

“Keiji! What even! You can’t𑁋”

“Likewise, Keiji.”

“Yes, yes I can. Goodbye, Miya.” 

"'Samu! Look how he's talkin’ t’me!"

"Well it's yer own fault, ya scrub. Ya smacked a volleyball in his face and when he got a nosebleed ya said he had a thin skull." 

"T’was a joke 𑁋 and I apologized first! 'Samu! 𑁋 Hey! Wait!"

Keiji fastwalks to the door, he doesn’t get to leave the cafeteria when Atsumu pops right in front of him, blocking his way.

“Tooru has one of those universal keys teachers have, ‘k? Like, I hate Tooru as much as the next guy and I know Tetsu made Omi, like, super uncomfy once," Atsumu blurts out with a shrug. Of course Atsumu too would know about the Elephant Toothpaste incident. ‘Uncomfy’ is one way to call the shitshow that went down. "And honestly I didn't know until this weekend this's how they got access t‘the campus, pullin’ all that shit'n all."

Keiji blinks. _Oh_. Oh. This… is a game changer. He could almost cry how much of a pure soul Atsumu could be when he wasn’t a total pain in the ass. Bless him and his crush on Kiyoomi. 

Well, Keiji _could_ throw him a bone.

"Atsumu, because you were helpful let me tell you something,” Keiji says in a whisper coming closer, just out of anyone’s hearing. 

“When he gets drunk, Sakusa Kiyoomi is the kind of person who laughs freely and so loudly 𑁋 he starts wheezing for minutes on end," Under Atsumu's wide eyed gaze Keiji pulls out his phone and shows him a picture of Kiyoomi. 

He was on their ratty old dorm couch, leaning on Hajime’s beefy shoulder. Kiyoomi's face was flushed from too much alcohol, with his hand over his clearly wide open mouth and scrunched eyes, it was truly one of the rarest photos in Keiji's possession. The only other thing as rare as this currently in Keiji's proprietorship, is an old Yu Gi Oh card, the Crush Card Virus, although he isn't quite sure if the digital capture of Kiyoomi's laugh quite compares with a piece of cardboard worth two grand.

Atsumu looks baffled back and forth between Keiji’s eyes and the picture on his screen. "Why're ya givin' _me_ ammo this precious?" 

Keiji observes that Atsumu is at least self aware of his annoying habits, he got to commend him for that. But of course, he is not about to ever compliment Miya Atsumu out loud. "Because no one will ever believe you."

Atsumu looks at Keiji scandalized. "You did not just pull a Brooklyn 99 on me. You didn't." 

Keiji smirks, tapping Atsumu's shoulder comically. "Oh, but I just did. Have fun focusing at afternoon practice."

"Yer evil, Keiji."

"Thank you, I've learnt from the best," The words draw shivers on both their backs. The identity of 'the best' goes unspoken but very well understood, he could very well be Voldemort for his level of notoriety on campus.

Keiji pays his goodbyes one last time then advances towards the dorms with the slightest skips in his step.

And just as Bokuto said, Keiji spots a mop of blond hair in the small welcome desk in the hallway.

He takes a deep breath.

Lets picture this from the perspective of Emperors New Groove, remember Kronk right? Bokuto is Kronk, his evil spirit and unfortunate enabler is Kuroo, his good spirit however… is none other than Tsukishima Kei. 

To this day Keiji still wonders how Tsukishima Kei, famous middle blocker and greeklife denier, a man who hates messy things almost as much as he loves strawberry shortcake got stuck being around the likes of Bokuto. 

Although, as much as Keiji would never admit out-loud, he did hear through the grapevines that Tsukishima Kei found himself in a mutually... beneficial arrangement with yours truly, Kuroo Tetsurou. Keiji shivers just at the thought of someone inflicting Kuroo on themselves _willingly_ . But _maybe_ Tsukishima Kei was a plain and simple masochist. (The world may never know, unless you count Kuroo's obnoxiously loud ringtone, a jingle version of Rihanna's S&M as any sort of indicator.)

“Hello, Tsukishima Kei? I’m Akaashi Keiji.”  
Tsukishima lifts his eyes from the documents and blinks owlishly, until he sighs and drops his papers.

“Yes. I was there unfortunately.”

Keiji chuckles lightly, he didn't even get to ask. “Honestly, I just want to know what happened to the extinguishers. If you know anything about the Athena building that would be nice too.”

“That’s Kuroo’s masterpiece.” The other man scoffs. “Somehow he dragged Yaku into it and another art student, Yachi Hitoka, designed it upon Kuroo's very _specific_ instructions." Tsukishima waves his hand tiredly. "He said something about clashing colors and unicorns, and a leprechaun riding it, that's how that atrocity came to life."

Keiji does a double take. "They… got from that to the Centaurus with a green bowel hat riding a purple tsunami?"

It is Tsukishima's turn to give him a side eye that makes Keiji eat back his words. Of course, why was he even surprised, it's in rule 23, nothing is out of the ordinary on campus. _Especially_ when any member of the Terrible Trinity is involved. Silly Keiji. 

"Oh," Tsukishima adds. "Leave the poor girl out of this though, Yachi was one second away from crying. It's Kuroo’s fault through and through.”

“Somehow that doesn’t surprise me at all.”

“Yup, typical Kuroo.” Tsukishima nods in agreement.

“And the extinguishers?”

Tsukishima pauses. “That, I don’t know. Oikawa dragged Kuroo away with his typical mean girl grin on, by the time they were back they were covered in foam and wouldn’t tell anyone anything.”

“Oh." Keiji grumbles. "So it's unavoidable speaking to those two.” Keiji pinches at the top of his nose. 

“It’s never a choice when it comes to them.” Tsukishima says with a wry smile. “Who have you talked with already?”

“Bokuto, Osamu and Miya.” Keiji says with a pitiful smile of his own.

Tsukishima leans back into his chair, ruffling his hair ever so little. “If you survived both Bokuto and Miya 𑁋 you should make it out in a couple of pieces from Kuroo’s claws too, probably.”

“I certainly hope so.” Keiji responds with an apprehensive chuckle. Before departing though, a thought crosses through his head. Curiosity is eating Keiji alive and his gossip streak can't hold itself back any longer.

“I know this might be preposterous of me to ask of you, but Kuroo Tetsuro?” Keiji asks with an upturn of his lips that builds into a frown at the top of his forehead.

Understanding washes over Tsukishima's face ever so quickly before morphing into a snort and an eye roll. “Oh, I know. His personality is shit, thank fuck he knows how to use his dick. It’s not like it's serious or anything, just until I get bored.”

Keiji blinks amazed. _That…_ is a great piece of gossip. “Quite harsh.”

“It's the kind of attitude one needs to deal with a mess like him. Besides it's not like we're exclusive. I've been with others, he's been with others,” He shrugs noncommittally. 

Akaashi is a bit startled but nods politely in return. 

Tsukishima must have nerves of steel. He kind of admires him, in retrospect. Keiji didn’t have the guts to continue playing volleyball together with _this_ team, and yet Tsukishima did and still does. Tsukishima is a fearless man, Keiji easily concludes.

“Do you perhaps know where I might find Kuroo?”

“Probably his dorm, he shares with Kenma or Yaku’s dorm. Room 403 or 408. I wish you the very best, hope you come out alive Akaashi.”

“Thank you very much Tsukishima. Good luck with your new job.”

“Thanks.” Tsukishima nods politely, then turns to Keiji seriously, with his voice turned almost to a whisper. “Look. You really got to cling on all the bits of sanity that you can get. Hopefully next time we meet won’t be in the yoga class you will inadvertently use as anger management classes.” 

That sentence implies two things. One, Tsukishima Kei takes yoga classes, two, Keiji too might need them.

Keiji is undoubtedly, indubitably afraid.

The first pit stop is at room 403. Keiji taps gently twice on the door until he hears the sound of a video game stopping, a long groan followed by a thud. It takes another 4 minutes for the door to open. 

From behind it, a small and bored Kozume Kenma in his entire bored glory appears: from his unkempt, blonde hair with long black roots and in dire need of both purple shampoo and conditioner, to his rugged ripped sweats that suggest he got in a physical fight rather than his own distaste at being a mere mortal who required basic human needs (like new clothes), or freshly dyed hair. 

“Hello Kozume, sorry to bother. I’m unfortunately searching for Kuroo Tetsuro. My name is Akaashi Keiji, I am the student representative.”

“I know you, we share a class. Just call me Kenma." The man whispers almost, his eyes are half shut trying to accustom himself to the light in the hallway. "Kuroo isn’t here, he went to bother Yaku, room 408.”

Keiji pauses. He thinks thoroughly about his options, the possibility of extracting some information from Kenma he could cling above Kuroo’s head or just go and dive headfirst into the nest of vipers. He doesn’t muse on it long, Kuroo and his clockwork orange level of torture can wait for a few hours. 

“Do you want to dye your roots again?”

Kenma shrugs. “Maybe. I have the dye but I need some help, and I’d rather not let Kuroo anywhere near it.” Which is in all fairness, a good point. No one should trust a national hair disaster with their own hair.

“If you want, I can help, I'm pretty good at it. If you can answer some questions of mine, of course.”

“You’re trying to delay the inevitable.” Kenma hums.

“Yes,” Keiji nods solemnly. “As much as I possibly can.”

“At least you’re honest so, why not.” Kenma shrugs and slowly invites Keiji in.

Keiji, happy to have successfully delayed once again his meeting with the second third of the Terrible Trinity, makes himself comfortable in the shared dorm of Kenma and Kuroo. Between random volleyballs, empty energy drink cans and various video game related objects among a weirdly detailed painting of the periodic table on the wall, Keiji spots various indescribable bits of life that both make and don't make sense at the very same time. Keiji is smart though, he won’t ask questions whose answer he is not ready to hear the answer to. And frankly, his own apartment is way, way worse of an interior design disaster.

Keiji found himself actually enjoying Kenma’s presence and found him a worthy Mario Kart opponent; he didn't find out anything more than about Kuroo's debilitating fear of moths, that one time in middle school when he got food poisoning and was a bitch about it for a week straight and that his favorite socks have snowmen on them. One might call this a waste of time, but for Keiji this was relatively time well spent.

With heavy heart and red eyes from playing too much on Kenma’s Nintendo switches, (because yes, he has more than one, he has about seven) Keiji finally moves towards room 408.

He raises his hand to knock bracing himself for impact. Keiji doesn’t have the chance to before it swings open fully.

Yaku Morisuke stares at him with a cat-like smile, he mouths “good luck” and invites him in before retreating to another room. Keiji holds his breath and dives into the darkness.

“I was actually waiting for you, Jiji.” A voice comes from Keiji's left drawing shivers down his spine. 

He doesn’t want to look so Keiji stares straight ahead, trying to reign in his fight or flight response. A trickle of cold sweat trails painfully down his back, leaving goosebumps in its wake. Keiji gulps and turns around slowly until his eyes finally drop on the dark figure. 

While Bokuto Kotaro was the kind of person not playing with a full deck, Kuroo Tetsuro is the person playing with five different decks and had probably another twenty hidden somewhere ready to deploy at a moment's notice.

Sitting with his legs crossed, on an old dark green armchair in the tiny dorm living room, Kuroo Tetsurou in flesh and bones stares and grins at Keiji. 

If one would even attempt to describe the physical quintessence of one Kuroo Tetsurou, the summarized version suggests that he always takes the ‘a fish rots from the head down’ a bit more literal than one should; particularly due to his perpetual rooster hair reminiscent of a KISS member than anything else.

Keiji in turn, tenses and watches his every movement the way a lost hiker stumbles upon a bear in the wild. 

_Damn it_ , Keiji is no Bear Grylls, Kuroo is. He is merely the poor tiny creatures Bear Grylls captures and eats with mirth, blood dripping down his chin. Keiji scans his surroundings and Kuroo’s figure, carefully searching for even the smallest exit point. If escape via defenestration is an option, so be it, Keiji is not one to completely scratch it out of the equation.

“Please, take a seat,” Kuroo points at the couch in front of him. Keiji proceeds carefully, sitting on the edge of the couch’s cushion, ready to flee at a moment's notice.

Because now, Keiji feels like a fish out of water, ready to be caught in the claws of a rather rabid cat. But rule 4 is resounding over and over in his head. He takes a deep breath, Keiji must establish dominance else he is going to get chewed alive. His eyes finally settle fully and unblinking on the smug man in front of him.

"I heard a lot about you, Jiji," Kuroo drawls. "Particularly about your love of owls, I think Bokuto would love to hear _all_ about that."

"So, fear of moths, huh." Keiji blurts out.

Kuroo leans back in his chair, eyes widening in the smallest of ways before catching himself, returning to his everful shit-eating grin. "Hm? Who told you that?" 

"Kenma. I helped dye his hair."

“So that's where you were. He didn't let me help, but he let you?” Kuroo gives him an incredulous look. 

Keiji snorts a bit, and points to his own hair. “It's kind of understandable, don't you think so?”

“You little…” Kuroo grumbles. “I still don't know if it was a good or a bad idea for them to make you a rep. I tend to flip a coin sometimes on big decisions. My worst trait, really.” 

_His worst trait, really?_ Keiji could assign each strand of his hair one of Kuroo’s worst traits and he still wouldn’t have enough hair for everything. A wacky memory drifts though his mind of Kuroo’s experiments with mercaptans. Keiji didn’t even know what mercaptans _were_ until he had to be subjected to the smell himself. Then it's that one instance with the homemade penicillin; that was The Incident up until the Elephant toothpaste had came along. But then, Keiji’s frustrations take a backseat and his thoughts finally align; the words Kuroo had just casually uttered like it was nothing, was like a flipped switch. 

The small cynical smile wipes off of Keiji's lips and switches to a murderous look. “Oh? You know who rigged the elections?”

“Of course. How could I not?” Kuroo grins like a stray cat and Keiji never wished to kill someone more.

“Who?” Keiji asks tight-lipped.

“It’s a Secret.” Kuroo sing-songs.

Keiji hums pensively, rotating people’s names through his head. He narrows down the pool to about seventy people. “Futakuchi.”

Kuroo bursts out laughing, slapping his thigh. “Good one. Is that wishful thinking or you really believe he actually has the brains for something like this?" 

Keiji purses his lips. This shrinks down the pool of suspects considerably. If it's not any of the mildly meddling people, then Keiji just has to aim higher.

"Nohebi frat?"

"Please, those fuckers have beef with Nekoma.” Kuroo snorts loudly. ”They have nothing to do with some lowly grunt from the lit department. No one messes with the lit department, y’all have it bad as it is." 

Keiji would pop a vein at that if he wasn’t expecting for Kuroo to push at his buttons relentlessly. He breathes in and out, slow and steady. Well if it's not the frats... This leaves one person.

"It was Oikawa."

Kuroo widens his eyes for the smallest of instants before settling back to his typical acidic smile. “Maybe, maybe not.”

“No, it was Oikawa. You would have denied it otherwise. You’re getting sloppy." Keiji taunts him right back.

Kuroo tuts. "I try to humor you, give you a finger 𑁋 and you go and chew me whole." He tuts again, shaking his head. 

Keiji exhales. He won a round, he can win more. Get it together, Keiji.

“Really, all I want to know is what happened to the extinguishers, where are they?” 

"Now, now, Jiji, we’re not done here. I know all about your own miniature freak-show. Arguably, your group is much worse than ours, 7 to 3. Kind of unfair isn't it?"

Shit. 

How the hell does he know about 321? Keiji stops. Most likely it is Wakatoshi, he never knows when to lie about certain things, Keiji groans internally. This can be potentially very, very bad if Oikawa knows about this.

"Oh? You jealous of our volleyball team, Kuroo?" Keiji tests the waters. It is all in exactly how much Kuroo actually knows.

"So that's what y'all plotting…" His grin widens. "You could have joined the volleyball club like Ushiwaka and Toya, y’know?" 

Keiji could exhale in relief if he wasn't keeping a neutral expression. How can someone talk so big about something he has no idea about, Keiji doesn't know and doesn't want to know.

"And deal with you on the daily?" Keiji raises an eyebrow. "I don't need to build immunity to migraine painkillers, thank you."

"Ouch."

“Really, won’t you tell me what happened with those extinguishers so both of us can be excused from each other's presence?” Keiji deadpans, he would even plead if he didn’t know that would make Kuroo even more insistent on dragging this out.

“Nope.” Kuroo sing-songs once again. He smiles widely before settling further into his armchair. 

He is a lost cause, because Keiji has no idea nor any dirt on him peculiarly to make Kuroo chirp about what went on, and what Keiji got was because Kuroo slipped for a second, and now he isn’t going to stumble again. Cats always fall on their feet after all. But this means… Keiji has to speak with… _Sigh_.

“One of these days, Kuroo, you really ought to tone down the whole mad scientist shtick and the experiments, y'know?” Keiji mutters defeated.

Kuroo makes a sound of approval. “I am. No more elephant toothpaste level stuff, don’t worry. Now I only mess around with people. I don’t want it to affect my application for a master’s nor my relationship, my boyfriend is pretty grumpy about this too.”

Oh. He slipped. Twice in one day is a record for Kuroo and Keiji couldn’t be more baffled at the turn of events. Kuroo Tetsurou, in a… relationship? Who would even… 

“You’re in a relationship?”

“Yes, with Tsukishima Kei. Didn’t you know?” Kuroo stares at him inquisitively.

_Oh dear, this is going to be a shit show._

Keiji coughs to mask the chuckle that he couldn't reign in. “From the rumors I thought you weren’t in a steady partnership of any sort.”

“Wrong, wrong, I’m a settled down man, fully committed.” Kuroo says proudly.

Kuroo is going to get his heart broken, massively. And Keiji wants no part in this. Nope. Nope. But one thing is for sure, his roommates are going to have a field day when they hear about this.

“Wish you the best then. The poor guy is going to need it.”

“Mean, mean, so mean, Jiji.”

Keiji sighs with his hands on his waist. He better escape as quickly as possible. Keiji has never been that good of a liar when confronted with an observant person. But the other option was equally as dreadful, but Keiji might as well get it over with.

"I am going to regret this," Keiji mumbles. "Kuroo do you know where I may find Oikawa Tooru?"

"The cafe. Moo Moo Tea Room, weird name right?” Kuroo exclaims. ”He studies there a lot, you should hurry, afternoon practice is one hour away.”

“I would thank you, Kuroo, but it’s never a nice day when I have to see you. Badbye.” Keiji offers a curtsy.

“Geez, Mr Grump,” Kuroo snorts. “This was fun though, let's do it again Jiji.”

Keiji ignores him and finally turns with a head nod towards Yaku, who was watching the scene unfold, entertained, from the kitchen door sill. "Have a nice day, Yaku, it was a pleasure meeting you. And you Kuroo, hope you have fun at that KISS concert.” Keiji says casually with a handwave. 

Yaku bursts out of laughter. “It was nice meeting you too." He manages to say between wheezes. 

Kuroo tutts and pouts like a little kid.

Keiji turns out the door, exits and goes straight for the elevator. 

He has never been more glad to be done with anything, for some reason this felt better than getting full marks on an exam even if he accomplished barely anything but pain tolerance to minor migraines.

He escaped. _Alive_. 

That wasn’t so bad. He is going to get so fucking drunk tonight and celebrate to his heart content. One more spawn of satan and Keiji is done.

He pulls his phone in a split second, not even watching where he was walking, if Keiji smacks headfirst into a wall, no, he didn’t. Because there wasn't anyone to witness it.

_**3… 2… 1… GO!** (Akaashi Keiji, Iwaizumi Hajime, Sakusa Kyoomi)_

_ << Hello. I've been working diligently in my tryst to uncover the fire mystery and I stumbled upon some pretty egregious information that might pique your interest. _

**Hajime** >> kk. I'm takinf care of the drinks 2night as usual 

**Kiyoomi** >> I'm ordering the food, as usual. Is pizza alright?

 **Hajime** >> yup. tnx!!!

 **Hajime** >> u done? or whos left???

_ << Of course, thank you, Kiyoomi. _

**Kiyoomi** >> I'm looking forward to tonight's gathering, Keiji.

> **Hajime** >> u done? or whos left???

_ << You-Know-Who is left. _

**Hajime** >> …

 **Hajime** >> rip.

 **Kiyoomi** >> ^

There are two ends on the spectrum of annoying people.

On one end we have Bokuto, utter absolute thoughtless buffoonery and on the other end... well. It’s somewhere a bit more extreme than Kuroo where _he_ resides. The last piece of the Terrible Trinity.

Oikawa Tooru.

If Oikawa Tooru could be defined as a human being and not an entity designed to annoy, it would be premeditated stupidity. He is dumb enough to premeditate his actions, way more so than Kuroo, and that is what makes him so dangerous. You never know what he has planned. And when Oikawa does strike, more often than not it is an instant tropical death for anybody who stands in his metaphorical warpath.

No one messes with Oikawa Tooru for a reason. 

And the ones who do, certainly have never heard of ‘self preservation’. Wars are not easy to win against such an impeccable specimen designed to talk your ears off until you slowly, painfully, bleed to death. If Oikawa’s entire existence could be summed up with one movie quote it would be ‘He doesn’t want to be famous? I’ll make him infamous’. 

Despite all of this and his antagonist-like personality, Oikawa was a simple man. He gives weird nicknames to anyone, unless he absolutely despises them. And you just know, if Oikawa calls you by your full name you better go into hiding for the next two months, cause if there's one thing he knows best is how to make shit go boom. 

Keiji pushes open the door of Moo Moo Tea Room with low expectations which even to his surprise, they get met in full and then some. 

Their campus had a total of two cafes nearby. One was a rundown, hole in the wall shop that everyone avoided, named ‘The Flamingo’; it looked more like a mafia front than an actual cafe. And the other? The other was none other than Moo Moo Tea Room, a cow themed cafe specialised in chai lattes (even though they serve mostly coffee; Keiji isn’t bothered with learning the rationale, he just attributes it to clickbait culture seeping into real life). 

It was by all means the most eccentric cafe Keiji had ever seen, with alternating white and black tables, grass themed tiles on the ground and a huge statue of a cow in a corner. The light fixtures were shaped like cowbells, the mugs were cow themed and glasses were smaller milk bottles, even the napkins had a small cow head pattern on them. 

Keiji always avoided Moo Moo Tea Room as it was a sought-after spot for the popular kids, now having seen the interior, he has one more reason to stay the fuck away.

"Well, well, well. If it isn’t the devil’s advocate… What brings you here Keikei?" 

Keiji tries his best not to cringe at the weird name he was just given. It was a sort of baptism, an invitation into the "true college life" to get a nickname from the oh so great Oikawa Tooru, but for Keiji it was exactly what he was dreading. Getting caught into Oikawa's radar. 

Keiji was a poor lost ship at sea and Oikawa Tooru was the Bermuda Triangle. And in that moment he's in the eye of the storm with no escape in sight. Keiji takes a deep breath. 

“Hello Oikawa, I have a couple questions about when happ𑁋”

“Oh, I know. Mine, Kou and Tettsun’s chat has been going off since morning about you.” Oikawa says casually, before emphasising with a glint and his fake Mean Girls smile. “ _All_ about you.”

Keiji didn’t even have the time to familiarise himself with his surroundings and he was already a deer caught in headlights while Oikawa was driving straight towards him long over the speed limit.

“Please take a seat, do you want anything to drink?” Oikawa asks politely, gesturing at the chair in front of him. 

“No thank you, I’ll be quick.” Keiji marches with careful steps and slots into the chair.

He looks at the papers in front of Oikawa, Keiji spots what seems to be his physics or maths homework, or he thinks it is. Keiji doesn’t exactly know what astrophysics majors do.

“Oh,” Oikawa pouts. “I was expecting us to have some fun, it's still quite some time before practice.”

“Please, I just want to know what happened to the fire extinguishers.” Keiji pleads. It does nothing but make Oikawa more pompous.

“Secret.” He sing-songs in a style reminiscent of Kuroo. 

Keiji exhales as quietly as he can. Then… 

“Please return the universal key you have to the welcome desk.”

Oikawa looks taken aback. “Oh? I don't recall ever having one."

Keiji raises an eyebrow. “I’ll tell Hajime you’re into vore. You know he saw you hoarding those hamsters in the hallway.”

“No, you won't.” Oikawa looks slightly horrified this time, but his voice remains steady. “ He won’t believe you.”

“Yes, he will.” Keiji says firmly. ”I am his emergency contact and you are the weird dude who keeps cockblocking him. He. Will.” His feet were shaking under the table and he had to hold his hands into fists so they won't tremble. If Keiji makes it out alive, it's going to be a story for the ages.

“You are so, so evil, Keikei.”

“Thank you. I’ve learnt it from the best."

“And who might that be?” Oikawa huffs annoyed.

Keiji snorts. “You.”

“Oh, how sharp double edged swords are!" Oikawa says dramatically. “That wasn’t very nice of you, Keikei.”

There’s nothing more grateful than what Keiji is in that very moment, to have had his mind muscles already trained from Kuroo to deal with Oikawa. Bless Kuroo for being an absolute pain in the ass, and allowing Keiji to respect the fourth Art of War law through and through: ‘if by mistake or not, you enter the lion’s den, do not let the lion get the upper hand.’

Keiji shrugs lightly. "Well, I have to survive somehow, cause you three aren't making my life any easier."

"Boo," Oikawa pouts. "We were just having fun you see, we weren't targeting you, per se." He stops for a second before bursting in a fit of giggles. "Oops, I rhymed."

He groans internally for the umpteenth time. Keiji already dreams of the insides of his apartment, their ugly couch, Hajime's cocktails, the smell of Kiyoomi's disinfectant. He is not one to cry for his mommy, but Keiji is pretty damn close to it. Keiji considers himself as a rather sporty person, but he was never flexible, mind gymnastics are way out of his sphere of capacity.

“Oikawa. Do they have anything with alcohol in here?”

And Satan laughs cheerfully. “Silly, Keikei. You’re in luck though. They do have milk vodka.”

“You sure love messing with people Oikawa,” Keiji tells him bluntly.

“Oh, but I’m not. Auntie! My bestie wants a shot of _distilled_ milk!” Oikawa yells gleefully.

As the old lady behind the counter chats happily with Tooru, Keiji’s face transforms into a grimer version by the minute. Keiji should learn to keep his mouth shut around Oikawa Tooru, not watching his words result in scenarios like this.

In less than five minutes a shot glass in front of him, full of clear liquid and Keiji has never been more horrified.

It looks like vodka, but knowing it comes from cow milk is enough for him to fantasize throwing himself over the table and body slamming into Oikawa as hard as Keiji could muster. It would be his first offense, and he doesn’t think body slamming is a felony. Keiji would probably have to either pay a fine or call Hajime to bail him out; both options feel tempting. Hell, even Kiyoomi would come in a heartbeat to bail him out if he finds out who he body slammed.

“Oikawa,” Keiji groans. “Just tell me about those extinguishers, please.”

Oikawa hums for a second, then with a glint and a wicked smile, his eyes drift over the shot. “You drink that shot and I will.”

Keiji wants to go back on campus, walk into the illegally seized room at the front of the Olympus building, steal that stolen IKEA shovel, dig a hole in the middle of the campus then bury himself alive in it. And it still would be a more merciful fate than this. 

“Oikawa.”

“Hm?”

Keiji stared deadly into his eyes. “I swear, if I drink this, and you don’t tell me. I’ll hook Hajime up with your ex. I swear to God.”

Oikawa squawks indignanted. “No need to threaten me, geez! I pinky swear, I'll shave Kuroo’s head bald if I don’t.”

“Not convincing. You'd do him a favor.” Keiji snorts.

Oikawa just waves his hand with a small flippant noise.

Keiji stares at the shot in front of him, shoots a glare towards Oikawa’s beaming figure, puts the glass to his lips and screws his eyes shut. What has his life come to? He never was a fan of vodka and now that he is down a shot in the middle of a cow themed cafe. It stings in the same ways vodka does and he winces a bit at the bitter taste. Keiji hates vodka so much, but he hates Oikawa more.

“Now can you please tell me what happened to the extinguishers?”

Oikawa shifts in place with an ever growing pout. “We tested Newton’s third law on skateboards.”

“What?”

“Newton’s third la𑁋 wait. Lit major, of course. You poor soul.” 

Second person Terrible Trinity to make fun of his major, _great_ , Keiji thinks sarcastically. 

“Newton’s third law says that for every action there will be an equal reaction in the opposite direction, we applied it using the fire extinguishers on skateboards.” Oikawa explains it carefully, as if he is tutoring Keiji in physics and not explaining a crisis that caused the complete suspension of the campus for a whole day.

He blinks, Keiji has so many questions and he doesn’t want to voice any of them out loud, so he settles on the only one that matters. “And what happened to the casings?”

“Casings?”

“Um, the metal part of the extinguishers?” Keiji supplies.

“Ah, we left them at the skatepark, some homeless people took them to scrap metal.” Oikawa quips before taking a casual sip of his cow themed mug. 

Keiji blinks once. Then twice.

Next, he stares in disbelief.

There is no skatepark anywhere near their university. No proof and no crime scene, no crime objects left. Only frustration and a story he doesn’t even know who would even believe, certainly not the Pres. Nor the Dean, or the other Deans. He has way too many questions and Keiji doesn’t want to ask any of them.

“How. Why? What am I supposed to explain this to the President and the Dean, and the other Deans?” 

“Oh, cheer up Keikei, it’s all going to pass.” Oikawa says cheerfully. “Tomorrow is going to be a better day. I can feel it.” Oikawa grins while picking at his nails.

Which meant the worst was soon to come, a good day for Oikawa was never a good day for anyone else. It meant he was flunging something akin to the size of a dinosaur killing asteroid towards the Earth and Keiji is decisively _not ready_ for impact.

“Thanks for your time, Oikawa.” Keiji says disquieted and slowly stands up from his seat. 

“Not going to pay for that shot?” Oikawa calls out. He stares with his annoyingly wide smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

Keiji turns around with an acidic smile.

He points his middle finger to Oikawa then runs out of the Moo Moo Tea Room at full speed despite the screeches echoing through the cow patterned walls of the cafe. 

Laugh bubbles in his chest and it exits hysterically loud through his lips. Keiji can't believe he flipped off _the Oikawa Tooru_.

Akaashi Keiji is _so_ dead.

**PART II. KINGMAKERS FALL HARDER THAN A KING EVER WILL**

Keiji makes his way to his dorm, room 321, tired out of his head as if his brains went for a run and got muscle fever all on their own. Typically, Keiji is kind of an avid lover of volleyball and still plays occasionally with a bunch of his highschool friends or with his uni group, but nothing quite prepared him enough for all the professional level of mind gymnastics it takes to deal with Kuroo Tetsurou, Bokuto Kotaro and Oikawa Tooru in the same day.

Keiji would have played volleyball in college too, but one look at the current team and he ran in the opposite direction as if one might from plague-filled sewer rats. And objectively speaking, no one wants to get the plague _willingly. (_ unless you're Tsukishima Kei, that poor masochistic soul, may he rest in peace).

Now that he is finally done playing a bootleg version of Sherlock Holmes and Pokemon GO all rolled into one, Keiji can hopefully relax and enjoy the one thing he has been anticipating ever since that dreadful 4 am email: get back home and gossip with his roommates. 

Iwaizumi Hajime and Sakusa Kiyoomi are his two lovely bullshit-loving, bullshit-proof roommates, who along with Keiji form the official unofficial UNCL students' hate club. 

I know what you might be thinking, if UNCL has a hate club there might also be a fan club, right? Wrong. 

The only fan club UNCL has is the 'We are the Oikawaii: stan Oikawa Tooru for clear skin'. Everytime Keiji has to read their 'official name' as the 'oikawaiis' he almost pukes a little in his mouth and contemplates once again to ask Suna's twitter witch friends to exorcise him or just downright hex him with memory loss, whichever works better. All outcomes would be better than dealing with the… 'oikawaiis', as such one could never strike against Oikawa without being deeply undercover, this corners Keiji as he tries coming up with a plan. 

Making him student’s rep probably took a lot of effort and a huge ton of planning from Oikawa's part, it would be a total shame unless Keiji pays him back tenfold.

  
  


Keiji presses on the door handle, once again Hajime forgot to lock the door. He sighs but enters and leaves the door in the same way he found it. Probably more people are yet to come once the volleyball practice is done.

"I'm home!"

"Welcome home, Keiji." Kiyoomi's muffled voice comes from the couch where he was engrossed in cleaning out the living room table. 

"Thank you, Kiyoomi."

For some inexplicable reason, other than drunk internet shopping, they decided to acquire a glass table with black edges for the living room. Which both surprisingly and unsurprisingly is difficult to clean to the point where no marks are left on its surface. As a direct consequence, one dedicated never-leave-anything-unfinished Sakusa Kiyoomi has made it his life's calling to find the perfect ratio of microfiber rag to glass cleaning fluid for perfect shiny results. 

While advancing further into his apartment to wash his hands thoroughly and before he gets scrutinized by Kiyoomi, Keiji admits to himself shamefully that everyone has their hobbies. 

For him, it's collecting stuffed owl toys and t-shirts with all four breeds of setter dogs. For Hajime, it's weird 70's era Godzilla memorabilia and dumbbells. 

And by these rather... distinct standards, there's nothing weird for Sakusa Kiyoomi to collect microfiber cloths and have a full rating system of their usefulness by brand and color. And truth be told, ever since Keiji found out cheap microfiber cloths are impeccable for cleaning his eyeglasses, all he can do is thank Kiyoomi for his niche, weirdly specific passion. 

But these things are of course nothing out of the ordinary for them, everyone on campus knows about their odd, tranquil existence that gravitates around obscure practices no one wants to partake in. But behind this ‘boring’ front, what most people don’t know nor expect out of the quiet yet deadly deadpan triumvirate that Iwaizumi Hajime, Sakusa Kyoomi and Akaashi Keiji have formed in an unlikely coalition, is for them to be massive gossips. 

Objectively speaking, Akaashi Keiji, Sasusa Kiyoomi and Iwaizumi Hajime are the picture perfect do-no-wrong-teacher's pets. 

It is a plot twist of sorts that they are probably the most involved in students' campus drama second only to Oikawa 'Invisible Hand' Tooru, himself. 

Through repeated experiments, and we will come back to this, they have concluded by the end of last year, they could probably get away with murder if they tried, but sadly they will not attempt such a thing, only because Kiyoomi hates messy things and nothing is more messy than dead things.

During these aforementioned experiments, the trio tried testing the perfect do-no-wrong-teacher's pets theory multiple times; telling various people that Kyoomi is a party monster within the constraints of his friends' apartments or that Hajime has a massive sweet tooth and absolutely hates neat whiskey and black coffee. 

Hell, they even told people about Keiji’s weekly pole dancing classes and about his skill of walking in 15 inch stilettos, no one ever believes a thing. 

Keiji's own frustration is that the entire campus is under the impression Iwaizumi Hajime, Sakusa Kiyoomi and Akaashi Keiji are thousand year old vampires that go and sleep in coffins the moment the three of them reach the dorm, their forever faithful lair of death.

Or at least this is what Atsumu The Annoyance told Sunarin once when he accidentally got high on the brownies Kuroo made during a chem lab. (we should all collectively agree that bad things _always_ happen when Kuroo is even in the vague radius of a chem lab, the Elephant Toothpaste Incident should have been sufficient proof, but alas, no one ever listens to Keiji when he actually does his Student Rep 'job'). And Sunarin, the everful gossip overlord, is not one to back down upon stumbling on a good piece of gossip; of course he made it his mission to keep this one very much alive.

Despite people’s lack of belief in normal rumors and complete belief in phantasmagoric ones, the existential issue of the 321 residents is that Motoya declared them the ‘rumor-proof boring throuple’ and from the very soil of this reality an outrageous scheme caught roots like an annoying symbiotic weed.

Room 321 became the epicenter of all on-campus gossip.

And it was all thanks to some sort of divine intervention from the gods of entertainment that aligned these overly specific happenings: Keiji’s newfound pseudo ‘job’ as a campus babysitter/detective extraordinaire, Satori’s love for Gossip Girl and friendship with Wakatoshi, the person who everyone vents to when they need blunt harsh truths, Sakusa’s blood relation to Komori, the endless gossip resource, and Hajime’s odd friendship with Suna spurred out of their similar taste in indie rock bands. 

  
  


When Keiji finally emerges back into the living room and takes a good look around, besides Kiyoomi's meticulous cleaning, he spots countless bottles of alcohol, syrups and soda lined up on the kitchen counter ready for cocktails to be made. In the background, Gossip Girl was already playing on the TV in countercronological order.

He isn't surprised; if anything Keiji's blood is amping him up at the prospect of what the night awaits.

And it was going to be one hell of a night.

He doesn't get to take more than a few steps towards the couch before the front door clicks open once again.

“Hello, hello, besties." A loud cackling voice comes from behind Keiji, startling him. "Do you have some tea, Oh So Holy Gossip Trinity?” 

Tendou Satori, once again, invaded their humble abode in search of answers that no one really wanted to know but guiltily craved for.

Tendou was taking his shoes off clumsily, throwing them all over the place into their small hallway that was more of a tight hole in a wall than an actual hallway. If anyone else was to come through the door it was going to be a minefield of seemingly daisy chained shoes as a warning of all the nefarious things that are nowadays a daily occurrence in room 321.

Hajime’s head pops up from the kitchen greeting Keiji quickly then turning to their guest just as fast. “Welcome Satori, take a seat. I’ll make you a chai latte with irish cream in just a sec. I still have to blend it together.” 

As always, Hajime’s hobby of homemaking Irish cream is the glorious result of all their gatherings. 

Somehow, either through the sheer will of his beefcake muscles or through pure psychic powers, Hajime's Irish cream tasted fifty-point-three times better than Bailey’s. 

Keiji can confidently swear Bailey’s dying wish is to be half as good as the concoctions Hajime can make in a ratty kitchen with checkered tiles on the walls and a tiger carpet on the floor, using a 2 dollar, yard sale, fourth-hand blender that makes the main electric switch jump every time it’s used for more than two consecutive minutes. 

“Not the tea I was talking about but, count me in regardless Haji.” Satori chuckles. “Oh and Toshi is dropping by after practice.”

“He’s welcome to join us anytime.” Keiji says with a serene smile while getting himself comfortable on the couch.

On his left, Kiyoomi nods too as he’s diligently working on the table. 

Their dorm was a weird combination of three rooms with a living room that was originally another room, but somehow someone broke the literal fourth wall. Despite the uneven edges, and the piece of wall still standing close to the kitchen, it felt ‘rather industrial’ to quote Kiyoomi’s first impression. 

Apartment 321 was an outrageous place to say the least. 

And the living room is the peak of it’s freakish nature.

Instead of black walls, coffins and ouija boards, the room was graced with an orange flower wallpaper on the upper half of the walls and wood panels on the bottom, dark brown wooden floors, the aforementioned glass table in the middle, the old persian rug Komori gifted them covered only half of the floor, and the centerpiece that pulls the dorm together in the same way a black hole would: the Calamity Couch.

The couch was a peculiarly mismatched item compared with the orange flowered wallpaper and the pattern of the rug. With frills at the bottom and an ugly sunflower pattern, it was a 9 dollar yard sale item from the same place they got the Blackout Blender from. 

It was by no means a nice piece of furniture, but it was enough to fit the three residents on it. And despite its ugliness and capacity to induce blindness upon any interior designer, it had an odd quantity of sentimentality attached to it, the couch was their first purchase as a trio 𑁋 and they all puked and spilled irish cream on it at least once, after all. 

Satori just chuckles at the two weirdos in front of him and heads down the hallway, to wash his hands then to Keiji’s room. He made a habit of using Keiji’s spinning desk chair as extra entertainment during the gossip briefings. 

Satori drags the modern black chair skillfully through the tight hallway and straight to his faithful spot on the right side of the Calamity Couch. He exchanges a look with Keiji before they watch Kiyoomi’s dedicated work.

He was using his phone’s flashlight to scan for streaks on the glass. 

Keiji does not have the heart just yet to remind him that new lines will appear again once Hajime makes his grand opening and chokes out of laughter on a cocktail, followed by spitting it everywhere over the table. 

Soon enough Hajime brings Keiji and Satori their teacups of irish cream with a proud smile, setting them on the barely cleaned table. He leaves a bunch of fingerprints in his wake. Satori doesn’t even try to reign in his giggles. 

Keiji can swear he saw Kiyoomi’s soul leave his body in that very moment.

They watch through about one and a half episodes of Gossip Girl before Wakatoshi shows up with the ten large pizza boxes Kiyoomi ordered in tow. Bless Kiyoomi for being both too generous and rich enough to fund takeout, and damn him for being a compulsively excessive buyer; for it is the reason Keiji and Hajime banned him from buying food more than once every two weeks. 

Wakatoshi, also familiar with the outline of their apartment, goes further into the living room and to their tiny kitchen, dragging a stiff wooden chair around the glass table on Satori’s right.

"Now that we're quasi complete, whatcha got today for us, besties?" Satori mumbles between bites of pizza.

Akashi looks at them solemnly, straightening into his spot on the couch. “Kuroo Tetsuro thinks he’s going steady with Tsukishima Kei, but Tsukishima told me they’re no strings at best. Apparently he's also still seeing other people.” 

The reaction is immediate. 

Tendou bursts into loud hyena-like laughter slapping at Kiyoomi’s arm, while Kiyoomi too was laughing in soft chuckles. Hajime choked on his Tequila Sunrise. Wakatoshi has a smile so microscopic it could have been an easy miss to an untrained eye while he was trying to keep Tendou from toppling over Kiyoomi. 

It was a surreal sight for anyone outside their inner circle, but one far too common for the members themselves. Between their odd group, Tendou and Sakusa were unlikeliest of friends. Yet through some foreign magic or some probable life or death situation they both went through in secrecy, they worked better than you would expect out of a prickly-obnoxious combo. 

Keiji even put their names in a love calculator, the result was 1%; _who even gets 1%_?

At the same time, Keiji, in his journey for sapience, even went as far to ask Sunarin to talk yet again with one of his newfound witch friends to ask about their compatibility (since Suna has been particularly active in the twitter witch circles since he caused their dorm's own version of Noah's Ark); yet each and every time Keiji found Kyoomi and Satori as incompatible as one might find literal and nonliteral pickles with chocolate.

“No. Really?” Kyoomi says between small wheezing sounds. His face is flushed red, already feeling the effects of the alcohol, he barely had two tiny cups of irish cream and he is already far gone. “I should feel sorry for Kuroo, but he doesn’t deserve anyone’s pity. Last week he dropped his homemade slime on my shoes.” Kyoomi scrunches his nose in disgust.

“I told Oikawa that if he doesn’t do what I told him to do, I’ll tell Hajime that he’s into vore and pet play as a hamster-eating coyote. And knowing him, he probably won’t do what I told him to do.” Keiji exclaims casually. “Hajime, you have a class on the same hallway tomorrow, right? Make sure he and the whole campus know about the vore thing.”

Hajime blinks, and takes the last sip of his Tequila Sunrise before switching to irish cream. “I won’t even ask. But ok.” He acts casual, as if Keiji just asked him to pass the salt and not spread a weirdly specific rumor about probably the most dangerous man in their university.

“Hajime. You will have to use your best acting skills.” Kiyoomi nods solemnly, somehow taking this thing more serious than everyone else in the room. 

There's no one who hates Oikawa more than him ever since the Elephant Toothpaste Incident that Kyoomi barred as a talking subject ever since it happened.

Keiji, just as all god-fearing mortals of the world, knows better than to bring up that specific Incident that solidified Oikawa Tooru's number one position on Kiyoomi's 'i would sell their souls to Satan for half a napkin' list.

And then, it finally strikes Keiji.

"Hajime, please call Rin and Motoya over. I have a plan."

"...sure." Hajime places his drink on the table and goes for his phone. "I don't really understand what is going on, though." He says carefully once he is done spamming the groupchat.

"We're limiting, or rather cutting," Keiji says before taking one more large gulp of irish cream. He settles the teacup on the table just as fast. "Oikawa Tooru's sphere of influence since he was the one who made me student’s rep. He has too much power and it ends _now_.” 

“No way.” Satori chuckles. “It kind of makes sense though.”

Wakatoshi hums pensively with a small nod. “I am not surprised. Oikawa is known for abusing the liberties he was granted to his advantage.”

"Honestly, it sounds complicated. It's Oikawa we’re talking about here." Hajime huffs but eventually nods in approval. "What do we have to do?"

Keiji clears his throat and stands up, his head is buzzing lightly but not enough to warrant being drunk. "We're going to have the biggest coup of power this campus has ever seen. Oikawa Tooru won't even know what hit him. When we are done, even Napoleon himself would raise from his grave, scare some of french people to death and then applaud us." Keiji says way too confidently. Probably the alcohol in the Irish cream is finally getting to him, it is whiskey and he had about two and a half teacups, afterall.

"That's 𑁋 one way of phrasing it." Kiyoomi remarks amused.

"Oikawa Tooru is very smart. I do not know if this is the best course of action but hopefully this would help him use his intelligence more wisely and not on hindrances." Wakatoshi nods in approval.

"Ushiwaka, never change." Hajime laughs.

"Let me guess we're messing with the volleyball club? Do we steal their volleyballs? Do we rat on coach's wife?" Satori asks, entertained.

Keiji simply nods. "Yup. We tell the coach about the wife. We tell him she hate fucks the assistant cause she hates his job, and we build some kind of fucked up logic around ' if I can't tell volleyball to fuck off then I'll fuck it all myself' or something equally ridiculous." Keiji explains carefully. "We need a new coach that will remove Bokuto and put someone else as Captain."

“You're rather bitter about this. It's very unlike you Keiji." Ushijima says kindly yet mildly confused even if his face betrays nothing. Or at least Keiji assumes he is confused, it’s hard to tell.

"My face is already plastered all over campus and my identity is compromised,” Keiji says grimly. “I might as well go out with a bang. And 𑁋” He pauses for dramatic effect. "And we won't stop here."

"There's more?" Hajime stares a bit scared, clinging on harder on his teacup.

“There’s always enough space for more.” Keiji affirms. “We'll also tell Tsukishima about Kuroo."

There is a small pause as everyone processes.

"Why not tell Kuroo? He's the one with the, like, explosions." Satori speaks between bites of now lukewarm pizza. 

"Because Tsukishima is more prone to clamming up and bursting when at the limit. Kuroo needs a build up. That's why, we need Komori or Suna to tell us who Tsukishima hooked up with that would make him angry.”

"Seriously Keiji, you remind me too much of Oikawa." Hajime visibly shivers while nursing his newly full to the brim glass of Irish cream. "Also about the wife, we need someone to tell the coach that isn't us. And won't _somehow_ piece it together that we're the ones meddling." Hajime says with a scrunch of his nose.

"True." Keiji says as a matter of fact. "I already have a person in mind but… Kiyoomi?"

Kiyoomi scowls a bit but relents. "Fine. What do I have to do?"

"Miya Atsumu."

"Really? Miya?"

"Yes."

"Fine. I'll do it. Only for the greater good of humanity." Kiyoomi says, like a liar. 

Every single person in the room knows he doesn’t really mind doing what is needed to convince Atsumu the Annoyance, as he's the one who came up with the plan in case they ever did need Miya. Which is giving something of worthy enough value, in this case, taking Miya Atsumu out. And honestly this plan would kill two demons with one hit as far as Keiji and Hajime are concerned. Atsumu has been pulling at Kiyoomi's metaphorical pigtails for a few months now and Kiyoomi hasn’t exactly been not _not_ responding.

"Your sacrifice is appreciated, Kiyoomi." Keiji responds in what he hopes to be a not amused tone before cracking his neck to mask his chuckles.

Keiji stands up, plucks the freshly made cosmo out of Hajime's hands, downing it like a shot despite his protests and cusses. Hajime abandons quickly trying to mentally decapitate Keiji and opts to focus on a more entertaining subject instead.

“I never understood why you don’t just ask him out like a normal person, Kiyoomi.” Hajime asks, going for the pizza instead.

Kiyoomi doesn’t have the chance to roll his eyes and snort when Wakatoshi cuts the moment apart with one deathstrike blow.

“Because Kiyoomi has control and trust issues and wouldn’t like Atsumu to have more power over him than he would like before he establishes concrete trust.” Ushijima says it in such a casual manner like an announcer in a train station and not probably one of the sickest burns of Sakusa Kiyoomi’s existence. 

They all simultaneously, like an erupting volcano, choke on their drinks. 

Maybe it is the pure innocent honestly of Wakatoshi’s words that make it sting as bad as a third degree burn. Poor Motoya for not being here to witness such a historical event and poor Suna for not being able to archive it. 

Soon enough their screams echo loud enough for their neighbours to start responding in a symphony of kicks, objects hurled at the walls and “shut the fuck up, twindledoodles!”. 

Keiji hears Kiyoomi swear under his breath. 

He picks up the bottle of irish cream and chugs half of it, straight of the bottle like a caveman. Most humans wouldn’t believe such a sight, for Kiyoomi to conduct himself like this, but put enough alcohol in him and he will behave worse than a frat boy on any given day.

“Damn. Right in front of the Irish cream, Wakatoshi. Straight for the kill.” Satori laughs between his own bites of a quattro formaggi pizza.

“I don’t think I killed anyone, Satori. Kiyoomi just needs to be told the truth. And I apologize if I offended your irish cream.”

Hajime lets out a chortle. “That’s not what 𑁋 you know what, Wakatoshi. Don’t worry about it, it's fine.”

"Really though, why Miya out of all of them?"

"He agrees easily to things and unsurprisingly no student takes seriously what comes out of his mouth, that also includes Oikawa Tooru. As long as we have Suna on our side to take down his arguments, we're invincible." Keiji provides truthfully. He himself can’t wrap his head as to why Atsumu enjoys doing favors for people, but who is Keiji to complain, the only price is dealing with his personality.

"Suna still owes us since he flooded half the building." Kiyoomi says casually, drinking Irish cream out of his cup like tea.

Satori puffs into his own cup. “Rinrin loves chaos. He would accept regardless, and it’s not like we’re harming Miya, anyways. Just possibly upgrading him to Oikawa Tooru’s number one enemy.”

“Maybe he’ll finally leave me alone then. I’m definitely doing this.” Hajime says fervently. “I haven’t properly hooked up with anyone ever since he found out who I am.” He visibly shivers.” I’m tired of quickies in fast food bathrooms.”

Kiyoomi stares at him with a frown. “That's disgusting.”

“Well I can’t do much about that since you’ve banned bringing people over, now do I?” Hajime retorts.

“Ok. I’ll refrain from telling it to your face when you’re being disgusting.” Kiyoomi says, unlocking his phone.

Keiji snorts. "You're planning on writing it in the groupchat instead, aren't you?" 

"Yes." Sakusa types on his phone quickly. Not even two seconds later everyone's phones light up or buzz simultaneously.

Hajime groans and buries his face in his palms.

Komori and Suna show up soon enough together with, ironically, a bottle of Bailey’s. 

  
  


“Hi, hi.” Suna greets in his usual monotone voice, leaving only the slightest bits of excitement peek through before he digs his hand in his back pocket, fiddling with something.

Komori holds onto the bottle of Bailey’s confused, exchanging a look with Suna who seems just as baffled. “Are you drinking tea? No more cream?”

“Not exactly, Motoya. It just looks fancier.” Kiyoomi responds by holding his cup up with pinky jutted out for good measure.

Komori snorts a laugh. 

Suna makes himself at home, just as any other honorary 321 resident, dragging his favorite green beanie bag and Komori’s fluffy yellow and green striped floor pillow from the corner around their small glass table. 

The same table that now has so many traces, it could put an offcourse track to shame, especially thanks to Satori's overactive limbs. Keiji doesn’t comment on it but he sees Kiyoomi sneaking glances at it every so often, he sighs and pulls out from his side of the couch a microfiber cloth and swipes it over the table quickly. He doesn’t look in his direction but he feels Kiyoomi’s grateful stare burning into the back of his head.

Suna shuffles in his beanie bag some more, before pulling out of his pocket another smaller bottle.

“Haji, catch.” Suna throws the weird brown bottle with a white label into Hajime’s confused hands. 

“What’s this?”

“That my friend, is the reason why you’ll be the biggest fan of rimming the world has ever seen.” Sunarin smirks in classic Suna _has plotted yet again something that will either cause their indubitable demise or for their life to get worse before it gets better_ \- fashion. Keiji isn’t quite sure which one of the two is happening right now.

Matching groans, cusses and versions of ‘Suna!’ and 'Rin!' echo through the room.

Keiji sneaks a peak to Hajime’s shocked and speechless expression then to the bottle. A single clear as daylight picture is plastered in the middle of the label. Just as fast as he recognised it, Keiji started laughing maniacally. Leave it to Sunarin, the internet rat to find something like this.

“Oh my god Sunarin.” Keiji wheezes, trying to keep himself from falling off the couch. “You really did it now.” 

Suna cracks a proud smile. 

Finally, Kiyoomi begrudgingly takes a look. He facepalms himself so hard, Keiji is 96.2% it will leave a bruise.

“Its 𑁋 Suna 𑁋 How. Where did you find this?” Hajime demands with doe eyes, cradling the bottle close to his chest, like a newborn baby.

“I have my... sources. You’re welcome.” Sunarin says before pouring his own teacupful of homemade irish cream. He takes a small sip, imitating Kiyoomi’s sarcastic pinky up pose. ”This is fantastic Haji.”

Keiji sighs and shakes his head, they’re not going to get anything done in this rhythm. “Thank you for joining us on such a short notice. Motoya, Sunarin.”

“Honestly, we were expecting this.” Sunarin answers with a small smile. “You had to talk with the Heathers today. You’d have amassed some information, for sure.”

“So what are we doing today?” Motoya asks, before diving into the leftover pizza.

“We’re executing a coup d’universite and dethroning Oikawa Tooru and his horde.”

Motoya pauses with eyes wide, staring at the dead serious expressions on everyone’s face. “For real?” Motoya raises his eyebrows questiongly at Kiyoomi who just shrugs nonchalantly. “Oh shit, then. Count me fucking in.”

“So this is definitely the Heathers, holy fuck." Suna looks more interested, he even stops paying attention to his phone in exchange for staring at the people in the room. "But I suppose there'll be less death by chemical means.” 

"Let's be real,” Satori snorts. “There's no way getting access to anything from the chem labs without Kuroo or Yaku finding out." 

Sunarin chuckles faintly, shifting deeper into his beanie bag.

“Honestly the volleyball team has got away with too many things and I finally figured out how to do it.” Keiji says decisively. 

Motoya raises his arms intrigued. “We’re all ears.”

Keiji starts slowly recounting the earlier happenings under Motoya and Sunarin evergrowing amazed stares until he finally hits his plan into action with one single question: “Has Tsukishima been with anyone that would objectively stirr Kuroo’s villain origin story?”

“That’s easy.” Sunarin deadpans. “Daishou. About a month ago at Sakurui’s party.”

“Oh shit. No shit?" Hajime asks, ever so eloquently. Judging by his red eyes and the forever growing pile of cocktails he had just consumed, Keiji expects it all to just go downhill from here. 

“Hajime, you were there.” Sunarin says incredulously. “You literally walked in on them in the kitchen while you were hunting for full bottles.”

“Oh.”

Damned they be for making life altering decisions while in various stages of intoxication. _'Persians used to make decisions twice, once sober and once drunk_.' Wakatoshi would so often provide innocently during hangover mornings when they were going over the plans once more. And it’s no doubt in Keiji's mind, he would do the very same thing tomorrow morning once they are up.

"This is better than I would have imagined.” Keiji spirals down, thinking about every single collected piece as the puzzle falls into place quicker than he would have expected. The voice that does make him break out of his reverie is an unexpected one.

"Honestly what stumps me is how to tell Tsukishima, and how to make Kuroo find out about his sworn enemy." Kiyoomi murmurs fiddling with the bottle of cream.

Motoya waves his hand casually. "Easy. I'll write the Daishou bit on the wall in the middle toilet cabin on the 1st floor in the Olympus cabin, everyone will know by noon. And to Tsukishima, I’ll just talk to him tomorrow after practice."

Hajime groans. "Oh, I know the 1st floor nightmare. Happened to me last year when I hooked up with Kuroo, I had to camp out there to erase it every time."

Everyone freezes. 

It was as if a sound distortion occurred, not Hajime drunkenly admitting to one of the gravest sins of their group.

Keiji stops in place, cup halfway to his mouth.

He places it carefully on the table and rotates around to stare directly at Hajime. “Tell me I didn't hear this right. You hooked up with Kuroo Tetsurou? Future Hot Topic employee? The MCR fan who doesn’t know he is an MCR fan? The kid still stuck in 2006 fashion, Kuroo Tetsurou?"

"Yep. Not my proudest moment." Hajime nods shamefully. "It was at the end of last year, after that nasty breakup I had. The shit I had to go through so it wouldn't become front page gossip."

"Does Oikawa know?" Keiji asks, more eagerly than one should at the prospect of his friend _willingly_ inflicting Kuroo upon himself.

Hajime pauses with furrowed eyebrows. "I don't think so."

"Hajime…"

The coin finally drops for Hajime in real time. He sees Hajime's eyes wide as big as cabbages, his head already shaking out of reflex. "No. Keiji. Absolutely not."

Keiji has to count his cards carefully, one push in the wrong direction and he will lose this argument, Hajime is a very decisive individual. But at the same time, he's easy to bribe if you give him exactly what he wants and that is what Keiji is betting on.

"We'll hit them from all sides. He won't even know where it's coming from." Keiji makes his point, trying to keep the excitement out of his voice.

"Keiji. He's annoying enough as is. Do you imagine how much more annoying he could become?"

"I'll marathon all Godzilla movies with you in chronological order. If you do this."

Hajime whines. "Keiji… i don't know…"

Keiji hesitates, one more push and Hajime will crack… but is it worth the price? Maybe not, but he won’t miss such a golden chance. "I'll come with you to frat parties and help you swipe alcohol bottles. _If_. And only if Motoya can write this one out too."

"Fuck it.” Hajime grumbles. “Deal."

"Well, I'm about to have a very interesting morning." Motoya tells himself serenely.

Kiyoomi sighs. "You two. You know I can just buy the alcohol right?"

A loud "Nope." echoes from both Keiji and Hajime, in a knee jerk reaction.

"You buy us takeout once every two weeks and even this feels like we're taking advantage of you so nope." Hajimes tells Kiyoomi.

"Yup. You do enough as it is." Keiji adds and points him with a look. 

Kiyoomi concedes with a huff and goes to fiddle with his cup.

Hajime clears his throat, slapping his thigh. "Now, that we settled my wreckage of a sex life, I still don't really get how this is going to fuck with the volleyball club."

"All in due time, Hajime. All in due time." Keiji murmurs with a glint.

"You sound like an evil mastermind." Suna snorts.

"It's a redundant statement Suna, he’s always been an evil mastermind." Kiyoomi says with a joyful twinkle in his eyes, enough to draw Keiji into flashing him the middle finger.

Komori hums and stares between them. “You know, I understand why Kiyo and Keiji refused to join the team. But what about you, Hajime?” He asks curiously. 

Only Komori and Ushijima somehow still manage to put up with all the madness of the uni's club. How they do it, is surreal to this day. Out of their entire group, they all played volleyball in highschool and the seven of them still play in amateur competitions as team Gossip Girls. Other than that, Suna picked the photography club instead, Satori works in a bakery, while the 321 trio are ‘special cases’.

“I wanted to build muscle. And I couldn't build as much as I wanted cause I had to jump for spikes.” Hajime explains and points to his ever growing upper half.

"Wow. Ok. Thats explains why you're so fucking ripped, Hajime." Motoya whistles a bit, eyes drifting over Hajime's figure appreciatively. "You look like you could crush my head between your biceps." He supplies unhelpfully, making Hajime grin in response. 

Keiji doesn't quite understand the wonders of bicep headsmashing in nutcracker-style, but if this makes Hajime happy, who is he to take it away?

At the same time, Keiji must also note Hajime is indeed a gym freak.

Hajime put so much muscle in the year and a few months that they have been rooming together that Keiji is afraid by the end of third year they might as well get buried in all of Hajime’s protein shakes and absurd variety of green vegetables that fill more than half their fridge. 

They’re students, they’re supposed to die a slow and painful instant food-based death not expand their lifespan, _dammit_.

Keiji waves a hand to gain their attention once again, why they keep on getting off track is beyond the understanding of his introverted sixth senses. 

"We've got to snatch the captain title from Bokuto. We'll give it to Ushijima since he’s the only one of us still in the volleyball club. We let the coach know about the wife, I let the Pres know about how unreliable the coach is, so he would contact Mr. Villin mid breakdown. It should all fall in place from there.” Keiji shrugs, his head buzzes lightly but not enough to warrant being fully drunk just yet. “Honestly, it's Oikawa’s fault for choosing to play kingmaker and be the vice just so he could conduct his Game of Thrones-esque affairs. We? We’re just fast forwarding this bitch to season 8.” 

“Please I beg you, no more Game of Thrones references. I still have nightmares.” Hajime moans into his teacup, which was probably his fifth of the night. 

Keiji should be concerned, he should, but he chugs more irish cream instead, if they go down with alcohol poisoning at least they go down together. “And 𑁋 and next year when Oikawa and Wakatoshi graduate, that means Miya Atsumu is going to be starter setter. Motoya. You'll be captain. We cannot let Arsumu get the captain title. I refuse.” 

"Me?" Motoya squeaks out with wide eyes. "I'm a libero! I can't be captain!"

"Au contraire, my dear floor loving bestie. USAV says you can be both team and floor captain." Satori says with his usual sly smile, swirling silly in Keiji's desk chair.

Motoya hangs his head, signing away his fate to their absurd cause. "I am really going to regret this, aren't I?"

"Most likely." Hajime agrees solemnly.

“Isn't this abuse of power?" Wakatoshi asks, as impassive as always.

"Oh, it is. And blatantly so." Keiji says easily. "But I do not care, Atsumu is not getting that title over my dead body. He does not need those bragging rights, Kiyoomi." This time Keiji stares at Kiyoomi pointedly. 

Neither one of them relenting, Kiyoomi keeps Keiji's stare for a couple of seconds or minutes, he can’t tell. Alcohol warped time somewhere after the cosmo and the third teacup. 

Hajime, who is sitting between the two of them, refills his cup once again with Irish cream. He looks between the two of them while sipping out of it loudly. Eventually, Kiyoomi takes his gaze away and sinks further into the calamity couch.

"Fine, but Keiji, this is evil.” Sakusa says sternly, looking him straight in the eye. He leans in closer. “But I am in, every step of the way.”

“Kiyoomi, this is undoubtedly out of character for you as well.” Ushijima says nonchalantly, nursing his third teacup filled with Hajime’s cream.

Maybe Keiji should tell Hajime to stop making dozens of gallons at once, although he should probably start with Hajime's habit of stealing alcohol bottles from various frat parties.

“I am aware. But 𑁋 if it means finally stopping Kuroo Tetsurou 𑁋 I am willing to overstep my morals and boundaries in a fucking heartbeat.” Kiyoomi says grimly. No one questions him after that.

As planned, Sunarin calls Atsumu to the third floor and from there he drags him into the midst of their chaos.   
  


The poor worse half of the Disaster Duo looks both confused and lucid at the same time, taking in the ridiculousness in front of him. 

Keiji can’t tell if it's the interior design, the exuberant amount of alcohol bottles, the unlikely people currently in front of him, the tower of Pisa made out of pizza boxes or the astounding story he had just heard; but most likely it was all of the above. 

It is by far the most ridiculous scenario in existence of possible scenarios, and Atsumu got flung right into it.

After a couple instants of Atsumu just opening and closing his mouth like a dying fish on land he finally speaks, or rather squeaks out. "I dunno what I expected. But it wasn't this."

"What were you expecting?” Satori cackles before vacating the room, to do some nefarious things no one wants to know about, probably.

“Coffins.”

Loud wheezes echo between all of them except, as usual, Wakatoshi who takes everything as serious as always. “I don’t think multiple coffins would fit in here, the space is quite small.” Motoya just gently reminds him it’s not what Atsumu means.

"I told you Sunarin has been spreading this rumor." Keiji turns expectantly to Kiyoomi. He scowls as a response.

"It's very… I didn't expect all of y'all to be... like, cool peeps. Like Omi, I wasn't expectin’ ya t’be searchin’ for revenge." Atsumu furrows his eyebrows, scratching at the back of his head. 

“I'm not searching for revenge." Omi stares at Atsumu as if someone dragged him into the sun without allowing him to put sunscreen on. "I am preventing tragedies from happening again."

"You're the only one referring to the Elephant Toothpaste thingy as a ‘tragedy’.“ Hajime points out.

Atsumu makes a sound of amazement, looking at everyone in the room.

“This is so weird. ‘Samu won’t believe this. Hell, the rest ofta uni won’t believe this.” Atsumu murmurs bewildered.

“Exactly the point.” Keiji mutters under his breath. 

“Like, everythin’s... s’weird. The teacups, these people, and that couch’s fucking hideous. Wait, was there a wall once here? There’s still a piece left, what 𑁋 ” Atsumu says in childlike wonder; he makes it his own special mission of explaining the outline of the room to everyone in the said room. 

Atsumu pauses for a second staring at the people, eyes finally settling on Kiyoomi. “Omi, its weird seein ya glued to someone." Atsumu remarks eventually.

Kiyoomi shrugs. "I got used to them.”

When in fact, he is probably the most comfortable around Hajime, who takes three showers a day and when he washes his hands he washes them to the elbow. It doesn’t exactly leave _anyone_ much room for him to complain.

Hajime smiles proudly. Yet, his hygiene practices sadly were built into what it is today because of his habit of constantly falling or spilling stuff all over himself.

"Atsumu. Do you want some Irish cream? Hajime made it." Wakatoshi offers kindly, pointing to a clean teacup that popped up in front of them seemingly out of thin air; Keiji can’t tell, the alcohol has long started to mess with his head.

Atsumu stares. "How can Iwa over 'ere make Irish cream? Shouldn't it be american or japanese or somethin'?"

They all stare at Atsumu with a look that is not far off from Ushijima's own natural deadpan. 

Keiji, Kiyoomi and Hajime share a curiously telepathic thought: "this guy is an idiot". It might sound gentler, more fond in Kiyoomi's mind but the overarching nuance of the sentiment is still there somewhere.

“I’m jokin’! I’m jokin’, ya dun hafta look at me like that!” 

Somewhere, deep in his bones, Keiji hoped it was for real, and not just Atsumu being Atsumu.

Tendou out of all of them, was the only one laughing his ass off in the kitchen. By the sound of it, he was making some kind of weird cocktail amalgamation that would probably either cause instantaneous alcohol poisoning or sudden death. Keiji doesn't really mind having either option at that very moment.

They eventually hand a full teacup to Atsumu and a small stool sitting him around the table, with his back to the TV and across from the couch. He still seems a bit amazed at the turn of events, staring at everyone and everything inquisitively.

“So… why’re ya trustin’ me with so much? Its kinda odd, not gonna lie." 

“Because no one will believe you.” The thought echoes from everyone in the room except, as usual, Wakatoshi who is casually minding his own business. 

“Not fair! Not fair y’all.” Atsumu cries out. ” Its the second time today I’ve been told that!” 

Wakatoshi places his cup on the table with a small hum. “Atsumu, I think it’s a valid concern that people fail to trust you based on previous experiences of you being hostile on court and overall unreliable off court. From what I have observed, you’re trying to overcompensate for your mild superiority complex. You are smart. You love volleyball a lot. You shouldn’t go down as Atsumu the Annoyance. I think you can work through it.”

Once again the people in the room choke on anything, drinks, food their hopes and dreams, even air in Atsumu’s case. But this time around, Sunarin is here to record the entirety of it with a childlike look of amazement on his face. Keiji can’t confirm any of Wakatoshi’s own findings and conclusions although he takes great pleasure in how low that must have hit.

“What’s with you today, Wakatoshi? It's the second person you gave an existential crisis to just in the past hour.” Satori wheezes before jumping back to Keiji’s desk chair, where he quickly starts spinning like a child in a Disneyland teacup.

“I did not mean to. I apologize, Atsumu. I only think it would be smart to improve 𑁋"

"Ok. Ok.” Motoya interrupts with a facepalm. “Atsumu, we really need you to tell the coach the truth.”

Atsumu furrows his eyebrows. “Um, what truth?"

“About his wife.” Keiji answers guardedly.

“What happened to his wife?!” _How does he not know?!_

Keiji sighs internally, there it goes… The difference between the two main setters is outstanding, while Keiji knows Oikawa is too involved in campus matters and Atsumu is too _under_ involved, he didn’t quite anticipate this extent of Atsumu’s volleyball fixation. “She’s sleeping with the assistant coach, Mr. Tuffin.”

“No!” Atsumu looks between the seven people in the room with his mouth agape.

Sunarin sighs, locking his phone. He lifts his bored eyes in Atsumu’s direction. “You know even Osamu knows this, right?”

“He does?!”

Sunarin blinks in disbelief. “You are absolutely hopeless, volleyball brain through and through.” 

"Rin! What eve𑁋"

 _How, in the name of hell, doesn't Atsumu know this._ Keiji really thought it was common knowledge among the volleyball players since it has been going on quite blatantly for quite a pretty long while. But at the same time, it kind of makes sense someone who is 100% focused on volleyball to be oblivious to everything else.

"Ok. Fine. Lemme think for a lil bit." Atsumu mumbles to himself, scratching at the back of his head with the world's worst forehead scrunch. "And 𑁋 If I were t'do this what would be in it for me?"

Bingo. 

Straight into their sloppy, uncarefully planned trap.

Atsumu eyes widen when he sees Kiyoomi moving forwards from his position on the right side of the couch, getting ready to speak. In a flash record, Atsumu’s hands come up waving fervently, as rhythmic as windshield wipers.

“Wait, wait. Wat! I know what I want!” He yells with eyes as round as onions, making Kiyoomi freeze in place.

The people in the room stifle a giggle. 

There go Kiyoomi’s plans, crashing and burning like the kitchen did that one time Hajime decided to cook while angry. (The aftermath of that particular incident is visible to this day, as the room 321 trio still need to prop a dumbbell on the fridge's door to keep it closed.)

Keiji exchanges a single look with Wakatoshi, who, by Ushijima-standards, is grinning to his ears even if the exterior shows about a millimeter of an upturn at the corner of his lips. He raises his cup in the slightest cheer before sipping carefully. Keiji can't help the giggle escaping his mouth despite the death glare Kiyoomi fixes him under.

“What do you want, Atsumu?” Kiyoomi all but murmurs, defeated. 

Atsumu clears his throat and straightens his back, trying to look serious, even if the small stool he was sat on, did nothing for his dignity. “I want you to tell me which one of you three can cook.”

In the causatum of Miya Atsumu’s words, there is nothing if not pure silence.

Soon after, it’s followed by fear. 

Pure unadulterated fear finds itself in the gaze of the triumvirate currently seated on the Calamity Couch.

“Oh, I see." Satori grins evilly. 

His voice draws gulps out of the Keiji Akaashi, Hajime Iwaizumi and Kiyoomi Sakusa alliance who redirect their gaze towards their horrid, orange-flowered wallpaper, just to cling on any semblance of pride or sanity. Or maybe both at the same time. 

Motoya just laughs lightly and grabs for the irish cream to refill his teacup. "We're really exploring the dirtiest secrets of 321 today, huh."

Hajime even vacates the middle of the couch, beelining to the kitchen. Keiji notes Hajime is making Long Islands 𑁋 which he usually never makes unless Hajime really hates his life 𑁋 and he is preparing at least seven of them, from what Keiji could see.

"Atsumu, you're never this smart. What went wrong today?" Sunarin asks, finally lifting his eyes from the screen of his phone. The unmistakable overjoyed glint in his stare does not go unremarked by either one of them. Damned Sunarin be for relishing in their collective pain. 

"Hey! It was just a simple question! I wanted to know if Om𑁋" Atsumu abruptly stops, an unusual flush to his face. Keiji doesn't really understand, but he guesses it isn't that important. 

Their pride is more important. 

Their pride as 321 roommates, as a coalition, their competence as Keiji Akaashi, literature major and student’s rep, Hajime Iwaizumi as a sports science major, sports medicine minor and wannabe Arnold Schwarzenegger, Sakusa Kiyoomi as a microbiology major with a minor in international affairs is _endangered_.

Keiji exhales and concedes. "The thing is. None of us can cook."

"It's true. I come once a week and cook for them." Satori cackles. He spins progressively faster in the desk chair. "Else all they would eat is a diet based on Kiyo's excessive takeout habits, Haji's three salad recipes and Ji's absolute ability of boiling _only_ eggs to perfect texture."

Keiji admits he did burn pasta once; Hajime did melt a whole heat resistant IKEA spatula in a pan and Kiyoomi is too afraid to cook on any setting higher than the absolute minimum. And while it does take him five hours to cook pasta, most often than not Kiyoomi kinda, well, almost-ish, approximately, if one squints hard enough, then yes, Kiyoomi can cook. (if one doesn't mind the one plus one deal with a free exercise in patience.)

"It's actually quite hilarious,” Motoya explains.“Hajime can make layered cocktails like nothing but put him in front of a stove and he’s as good as dead." 

Satori nods his head viciously. "Yup. They all have a different knack. For Jiji is killing bugs, for Haji is handyman stuff and Kiyo is cleaning. All three important household tasks and yet none of these provide them survival."

"Well, they did provide my survival that one time I flooded the dorms. They fixed my entire apartment," Sunarin nods and holds a half assed thumbs up in their vague direction. Keiji just deadpans him with a glower. He's not helping at all.

"So, Tori, do ya cook 'em their favorite food or random stuff?"

"Oh, oh, oh. I see what this is about…"

"What? No, no, no. It was an honest question!"

"Oh Tsumu-Tsumu, it's fine. Kiyo-Kiyo's favorite food is anything that has umeboshi as a side dish. He's surprisingly not picky for a trust fund baby." Satori pats his shoulder comfortingly, Kiyoomi shakes his head a little and rolls his eyes, in yet another round of eyeball gymnastics. It wouldn't surprise Keiji if by the end of the night Kiyoomi sends his irises into the back of his head by mistake.

At some point Hajime comes back with the Long Islands and he drinks some of it, it all just gets too blurry in Keiji’s mind to tell what happened moving forward.

The next thing he remembers is waking up later on to see the others in various states of intoxication, and Atsumu was long gone, Gossip Girl was running on mute still on the background.

Keiji grabs for a slice of cold pizza, in hopes of alleviating his impending hangover. He hums pensively though his brewing fuzzy headache. “I should probably go MIA for a couple of days. I bet Oikawa will hunt me down.” 

“I suggest we resolve this in the morning then towards lunch we go down to my parents’ vacation house in Santa Monica. Until it all calms down." Kiyoomi promises in an odd gesture of hospitality.

Keiji raises one eyebrow at him until Kiyoomi rolls his eyes. "Yes. I'd rather not be here when Kuroo inevitably goes on a rampage."

There we go.

“Should we get Miya too?”

Kiyoomi snorts. “He could be dying at Oikawa’s hands and that idiot still won’t miss practice.”

Hajime hums pensively. "We can play beach volleyball as a change.”

"Aw, too bad me, Ushiwaka and Satori can't come." Komori pouts.

"Just drive on Friday straight after practice, and we leave together on sunday afternoon." Kiyoomi suggests.

“We're probably going to get there pretty late.”

“Do you honestly think any of us is going to get a wink of sleep when we are within walking distance of the beach and Hajime handles the alcohol?” Kiyoomi raises an eyebrow.

Keiji too adds, “We'll be drinking straight up Irish Trash Cans and blowjobs the whole time most likely.”

“That’s fair.”

“Ok, see you all in the morning. If we aren’t dead from alcohol poisoning.”

**PART III. STRIKE WHILE THE IRON IS HOT**

_**Gossip Girls** ( Akaashi Keiji, Iwaizumi Hajime, Komori Motoya, Sakusa Kiyoomi, Suna Rintaro, Tendou Satori, Ushijima Wakatoshi,)_ ****

[7:03 AM]

_< < So…_

**Hajime** << shit, my head is killing me

 **Kiyoomi** >> ^ ****

_< < Same_

**Satori** >> MORNING BESTIES

 **Suna** >> Same like fuck. What did hajime put in that irish cream

 **Wakatoshi** >> It wasn’t the irish cream. It was the Long Islands. It had a lot more rum and tequila than usual, which Keiji once called "never a good mix".

 **Hajime** >> fuck, Tori y are u so awake?

 **Suna** >> And u ushiwaka??? Do u ever get drunk or u immune to alcohol? Also dont u have practice??

 **Satori** >> morning shift at the bakery, I’ve been awake since 4 am U LOSERS!!!!

 **Wakatoshi** >> Practice starts at 8 AM today. I had a hangover, but I ran it off this morning.

 **Suna** >> You’re not human.

 **Motoya** >> We’re a mess.

 **Hajime** >> Like y do we keep making important decisions while drunk

 **Wakatoshi** >> As Herodotus said, Ancient Persians used to make decisions twice, once drunk and reconsider it sober and authors after that interpreted it as a decision sober must be reconsidered drunk, that is the origins of In Vino Veritas and the original greek counterpart ‘en oino aletheia’. If anything this proves our commitment and purity of thought going into this.

 **Kiyoomi** >> So you mean both Romans and Greeks had the same concept, right? Since when the Roman Empire conquered Greece, Greece basically culturally “overtook” the roman empire?

 **Wakatoshi** >> Romans mentioned this same phenomena but in relation to germanic tribes about three or four hundred years later.

 **Wakatoshi** >> Also kind of but not exactly, about the “overtaking” bit. 

**Kiyoomi** >> What do you mean?

 **Wakatoshi** >> As you know it the romanization process involved correlating aspects from a territory’s culture with the roman culture; in religion specifically this was prevalent. But in theory, Greece was a special case because of how deeply ingrained and affluent their culture was. 

**Kiyoomi** >> It is kind of fascinating how much of it still lasts and is maintained to this day either through direct means, or by indirect ones. I had a literature teacher that explained ancient greek tropes in modern literature and their constant repetition through the centuries.

 **Wakatoshi** >> Indeed. Ancient Greece is fascinating to study. Although personally I’m rather fond of Spartan culture and laconism.

 **Suna** >> and u wonder why we dont ever let u 2 sit one near the other

 **Hajime** >> Kiyo, Ushiwaka. its 7 am and we’re all fucking hangover. Wtf

_ << Honestly _

> **Hajime** >> Kiyo, Ushiwaka. its 7 am and we’re all fucking hangover. Wtf

**Suna** >> Haji, don't act as if you haven't been at the gym for an hour already. we all know u wake up at 5:30

_< < Toshi, how do u even know this much about the roman empire but have no idea what gravity is??_

**Wakatoshi** >> Physics and history don't correlate that much unless we’re talking the Age of Enlightenment or the history of the catholic church versus science

 **Suna** >> what even is this gc TT ****

_ << Ok ok. Ok. can we focus??? pls _

_ << @Motoya, when are you going to write it out in Olympus? _

**Motoya** >> im omw already, 

**Motoya** >> im armed with two different pens and have settled on which writing styles to use too ;) 

**Motoya** >> leave it alllll to meee

_< < When is miya talking with the coach? At some point it all got kinda blurry _

**Kiyoomi** >> After practice while the others are in the showers. He’ll text me and ill text the gc

_< < Hajime dont u dare forget to remind Oikawa in the hallway about the vore thing. _

_< < And make sure youre loud. k?_

**Hajime** >> ok…

And all Keiji can do now, is wait for the chaos to unfold. He heads for the kitchen where he spots kiyoomi munching on some random salad made most likely from Hajime’s perpetually growing fridge vegetable garden.

He himself opts for microwaved pizza leftovers, while he waits to make the call...

“Hello Mister President? I come back to report with some rather unfortunate news about the Volleyball team coach who gave the students a universal key… Yes. Yes, of course. I talked with everyone. No, there is no possible way of recovering the extinguishers, regrettably. Of course. i agree. The problem is how and who he chose as captain when rather 𑁋

## Akaashi Keiji’s Art of War

Redacted and added version through the communal force of 321 residents and members.

  1. To avoid on-campus danger means you need to know who to avoid.
  2. The key to a peaceful on-campus life is to keep out of disaster’s way. Find hideouts.
  3. Prepare yourself thoroughly before a grueling task or interaction
  4. If by mistake or not you enter the lion’s den, do not let the lion get the upper hand
  5. If one sees Bokuto Kotaro doing something dumb, run the other way.
  6. If one hears a loud sound or smells a thick smoke from the chem labs, it is 100% Kuroo Tetsurou. Run and find cover. Immediately.
  7. Do not let Oikawa Tooru know of your existence. - Hajime Iwaizumi
  8. The University Library has a 4th floor no one uses. It's silent and there's a lot of beanie bags.
  9. Do not divulge sensitive information to any member of the volleyball team. And if you must, pick Tsukishima Kei (the only sane one). Miya Osamu is a valid second option if he is alone.
  10. The president's office has a large printer that he never pays close attention to. Use it to its full potential. The world is your oyster.
  11. If you see stolen IKEA objects and carts, do NOT engage. They are there, but they don’t exist. This is all you need to know. Do not ask questions.
  12. For free food, the linguistics and foreign languages department always give away culturally specific food in the small dining room on the 5th floor. - Komori's tip
  13. When eating at the cafeteria: either come 15 minutes before the actual break or in the last half an hour to avoid lunch time rush.
  14. The small dining section on the second floor of the Athena Building has a microwave. Technically it's the professors dining section but they let students use it (only the ones smart enough to know about it).
  15. "To survive, sometimes one must turn against their own morals and become shrewd." - Sakusa Kiyoomi
  16. The girls bathroom on the 4th floor of the Olympus building is the hookup place. Avoid at all costs. - Iwaizumi Hajime ( he was wild as a freshman ok. He mellowed out 1. During sophomore year 2. Oikawa Tooru found out about his existence and declared himself as Hajime's perpetual cockblock since. // Keiji. Why are you writing my life's struggles into the Art of War???? // I wouldn’t exactly call your inability to get laid a ‘life struggle’, Hajime. SK // Poor IwaIwa. T^T - TS)
  17. Running away is not cowardice. It's selfcare.
  18. Hoshiumi Korai is smarter than he seems. - Ushijima Wakatoshi (again. What does this have to do with survival? - Hajime // he is smart at figuring things out and does not know how to keep a secret from the volleyball club. - UW // Fair point. - Keiji)
  19. One must always be at 100% mental capacity before dealing with either Kuroo Tetsurou or Oikawa Tooru. They won't hesitate to chew you alive.
  20. When dealing with professors and staff, act nice. No matter how much of an asshole you really are, if professors think you are a good kid you can get out of anything unscattered. _Anything_. 
  21. Tactical retreat is a must. Always search for openings.
  22. Stay away from Shimizu Kyoko. She can see through any lies. 
  23. If there is anything out of the ordinary, there isn’t. Nothing is out of the ordinary on the UNCL campus (am I the only one pronouncing UNCL as Uncle?? - TS // no, you’re not the only one - SK // Right??? IH)
  24. The lighting in amphitheatre D is terrible. Professors will spot you easily if you are on your phone there. Put your luminosity to minimum. - Suna Rintaro
  25. 321 is ~~Rumor~~ **Room** or center. What happens in 321 stays in 321. Information is limited to residents and accepted members. Outside 321 use coded language about anything 321 related. Thereby contractually signed: Akaashi Keiji, Iwaizumi Hajime, Sakusa Kiyoomi, Tendou Satori, Ushijima Wakatoshi, Komori Motoya, Suna Rintaro. (That was a shit pun even for you, Motoya. - SK)



**PART IV. IN THE AFTERMATH, ALL ITS LEFT IS PICKING UP THE PIECES**

While last weekend the university was literally on fire, this time, it was metaphorically on fire. 

They only had a vague idea of the anarchy left behind on campus because Keiji and the 321 residents were enjoying cocktails by the beach in Kiyoomi’s fancy vacation house. 

The volleyball club side of the group chat was on a roll as the next two days past that Wednesday morning created an immeasurable chaos on campus. Last they heard, they had to quarantine an entire chem lab for decontamination because Kuroo got distracted and dropped mercury on the floor. They also don’t know much about the whole Kuroo-Tsukishima ordeal outside that it's all rather awkward at practice. 

To add to it, the volleyball club now both didn’t have a coach and the captain was, surprise, surprise... Wakatoshi. 

Wakatoshi, who was continuously butting heads with Oikawa, or rather Wakatoshi had no tact whatsoever and Oikawa was openly showing his distaste for it.

From what Motoya has been writing, it had been a couple of very passive-aggressive days on the volleyball team as they scramble around with no coach in sight and only the Wakatoshi-Oikawa comedy duo.

  
  


The days flew by fast and Friday night finally came in like a hurricane.

  
  


It is about nine at night when another car pulls into Kiyoomi’s driveway, Motoya’s Tesla comes into clear view together with its tinted windows.

Out of his car, shotgun is Wakatoshi, in the back though, between the Disaster Duo, one third of the Terrible Trinity was there with a murderous look on his face. 

He doesn’t let the Miyas come out properly before he climbs over them and marches straight for the house like a man on a mission. 

The one who opens the door should be the only one with enough muscle to come out alive, for this very reason Keiji signals to Hajime to go open the door despite his whining, reluctant stare. 

“Um. Hi.” Hajime says awkwardly and Keiji cringes so badly from behind the corner where he was hiding.

“Hello, Iwa-chan. It’s nice to see you again. May you escort me to wherever I might find Keiji?” Keiji freezes at his name, and the lack of the weird nickname. Keiji never thought he would reach the day when he would wish Oikawa would call him "Keikei".

“Oikawa? What are you𑁋?”

“Me and Akaashi Keiji. We two have a lot to discuss.” It’s not the content of the sentence but the way Oikawa says it. Full name. Fake sugary sweet tone. Keiji can just feel the daggers stabbing at his imaginary voodoo doll right from his hiding spot.

Keiji thinks he is done for. 

He is as good as dead and he is going to get a sea burial. 

Keiji never quite considered the implications of a sea burial but in retrospect, it might not be that bad. But then his body has to suffer being eaten by a shark, or a whale, or a bunch of sea urchins, maybe even a few seagulls.

The cycle of life, oh joy.

“Oikawa,” Hajime sighs. “Look. You gotta stop this madness. We’re all so tired. Hell, I am tired of hiding from you every single time I want to have a hookup, ok? It's getting tiring having to go to fucking McDonalds for sex.”

There is a pause, then Oikawa speaks apprehensively. “Iwa-chan. McDonalds?”

“Yes. Mc fucking Donalds because it was the last fucking resort, you massive cockblock.”

“Look, look, Iwa-chan.” Oikawa begins. “The first time I saw you, I was juggling a mountain of papers with research for the volleyball club and you just came casually and took them off my hands. You carried them for me through the other end of the campus. And it didn’t even look like you were paying special attention to me, you were just there, another day's work. Then I kept seeing you everywhere.” Oikawa says in such a meek, fragile tone; Keiji can’t even believe it’s coming from _the_ Oikawa Tooru. 

“You were everywhere. In the hallways giving your notes away to anyone who asked when I was waiting for my classes, in the cafeteria, studying with mountains of books in the library, at every frat party, breaking fights like it was nothing. You don’t even look like much of a party type but you’re at every single one of them. You’re a mystery, Iwa-chan.”

Well, if only Oikawa knew the reason why he was at every party. Keiji bites his lips to stifle his giggles.

“But, you were always with Keiji on campus, if you weren’t with Keiji, you were hooking up with someone at a party. I thought that… If he was students rep𑁋"

_Oh sweet baby fucking jesus, that was the reason?!_

"So, what you want to say is that you like me?" Hajime asks bluntly. "Look. Oikawa I got to tell you I'm not interested in the whole Invisible Hand thingy of the campus, you know? What I am interes𑁋"

“I know, Iwa-chan, I'm sorry. I’ve been so𑁋”

"Shut up and stop interrupting me, dumbass. I'm not done, you idiot!" Hajime scolds him until Oikawa visibly shrinks into himself. 

Hajime clears his throat nervously. "Look. Ask me out normally, like a normal human being and I'll go with you on a date. We'll go figure it out from there; cause what I'm interested in is not empty facades and stupid dick sizing contests for meaningless campus notoriety, ok? I want to know if there’s more under those walls of yours, I can’t profess my dying love for you, but at the very least of what I can tell you, I don’t really mind the whole Great King part of you. You’re infuriatingly interesting beneath all that weirdness of yours."

“So honest, Iwa-chan.”

“Well, one of us has to be.” Hajime snorts.

“That’s mean.”

“No, that’s payback for the number of times you’ve walked in on me. Honestly, it'll be a miracle if I can even look at you in that way since my dick is conditioned to go soft at the sight of you."

"Iwa-chan! Wha𑁋"

Keiji shakes his head, he heard enough.

He crawls around, trying to get past Oikawa and Hajime. When he passes them, Oikawa has his back to Keiji; Hajime sees him and almost starts laughing at the sight of him on all fours. 

Oikawa wants to turn around and Keiji looks horrified at Hajime. 

Hajime, who is not a quick thinker outside the volleyball court, quick-thinks for the first time in ages and pulls Oikawa into his standard muscle-y bone crushing hug, signaling Keiji with his eyes to run. 

Keiji, a man who knows when to seize an opportunity, runs right out the door and straight outside, to sweet, sweet freedom. 

Komori and the others were still in the driveway settling into the Santa Monica spirit when Keiji sprints right past them. 

They might be laughing now, but Keiji will be the one with the last laugh when he finally starts locking the door to apartment 321. 

By the time Keiji got back, Oikawa either mellowed down or he had the unfortunate chance to discover how freehanded Hajime is when it comes to alcohol and is now drunk beyond comparison. Either version works perfectly fine, as he isn't looking all that murderous anymore.

Keiji exchanges a quick word with Motoya, but eventually settles in a silent corner, with a Whiteclaw, watching a very intense beach volleyball match between Osamu and Sunarin versus Kiyoomi and Atsumu. Throw in both the twin's competitive streak and tendency to yell out curse words at each other and Keiji got one hell of an entertaining show.

Sunarin keeps rolling his eyes and mouthing to Keiji "get me out of here"; Keiji laughs instead. Sunarin is a terrible liar when he has a soft spot for someone.

As they celebrate their victory, Keiji doesn't know if Kiyo finally took his head out of his ass or Atsumu did but judging by their congratulatory sidehugs and soft glances, they're finally getting somewhere.

"Ji," Oikawa says cheerfully, wobbling towards Keiji. So it was the alcohol indeed, poor Oikawa for having a crush on an idiot with a surreal alcohol tolerance. "Let's play some volleyball tomorrow. I won't go easy on you though."

Keiji chuckles lightly. "I got to warn you, I am a setter. I won't go easy on you, as well."

Oikawa cocks an eyebrow. "Oh? You actually play?"

"Yup. I just avoided the college club."

Oikawa pouts childishly. "Boo. I bet we'd make a great team."

"There's only one way to find out." Keiji cracks a smile and Oikawa wraps an arm around him, declaring him his new best friend and giving him yet again a new nickname.

Keiji doesn't know and doesn't want to know if this turn of events is better or worse for his poor soul as Oikawa drags him around.

What he does know is at least "Ji" is better than “Keikei” on any given day.

  
  
  


**

On Monday morning, Keiji sits on the steps outside the library enjoying his jasmine tea when a figure hovers above him. 

When he raises his head he spots an unexpected character. Bokuto Kotaro, volleyball club ex-captain and resident loud person, beams with a blinding smile. 

He looks so carefree, as if Keiji didn’t even assassinate his character, created a rift between the Terrible Trinity, left his club in shambles and without coaches _and_ proceeded to leave them without a universal key. 

Bokuto comes to sit near him with a smile. “Hey, ‘kaashi.”

“Hello, Bokuto.” Keiji answers politely. Is the least he can do, he thinks. “How have you been?”

“Fine, thank you.” 

After that they settle in a stiff silence, as Keiji sips slowly out of his paper cup to mask it.

“So. What was that thing about the sneeze mid hiccup?”

Bokuto chuckles softly. “I was trying to make a, _what is it called_ , a metaphor probably. Sorry ‘kaashi didn't really think past everything. I mostly didn't care what happened offcourt and used Tetsu and Tooru approval for stuff as a metric for things to be ok. Didn’t really think about the trouble we were putting you in. Sorry about that, ‘kaashi.”

Keiji turns around so he can stare fully and inquisitively at Bokuto’s sincere expression. At the end of the day, Keiji ended up doing much worse things to him than the opposite. 

"I'm sorry too, for the whole… the way I went about it." Keiji says awkwardly.

Bokuto just shakes his head gently. "We needed a new coach and you did us a favor, really." He laughs. "And Toshi and Tooru are funny as co-captains, makes me want to compete with them too."

Keiji doesn’t quite understand Bokuto, probably never will but 𑁋 he can extend an olive branch. He sighs. 

“Bokuto, let's go play some volleyball. I'll set for you.”

Bokuto stares at Keiji frozen in place before he bursts into his typical loudness. “What, you play volleyball? ‘Kaashi! Why didn’t you say so!”

“Yup. I’m a setter.” Keiji supplies between tea sips. 

“Why didn’t you join the club?” Bokuto asks as innocently as ever.

Keiji stares at him, until Bokuto facepalms himself. “Oh, yeah. Dumb question.”

“I compete in IVN and USAV with a team, for now it works good enough.” Keiji adds casually.

Bokuto seems to get more excited the more Keiji talks. “Wait! You have a team?” 

“Yup, Motoya, Wakatoshi, Suna Rintaro, Sakusa Kiyoomi, Iwaizumi Hajime, Tendou Satori and me.”

“Toshi and Toya are in your team too? I didn't know the others played too?!”

Keiji hums, then stands up dusting himself off. “Let's go, let me see if you're really that great of an Ace.”

“Nope, just a normal Ace.” Bokuto says thoughtfully.

Keiji can’t tell if Bokuto is a secret genius or dumb, but… he would like to know.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


  
(Reference for the living room )

**Bonus** :

Kiyoomi and Keiji make the small walk to the campus gymnasium on a december’s Friday night.

They are fashionably late as always; while Hajime has been there for about an hour to catch seats in an upper corner, allowing the two of them to get there when the crowds have long settled and the game is close to starting.

When Kiyoomi and Keiji made their way to their seats, the first whistle was long blown and the score was already 3-1 for the UNCL volleyball team.

On the court, Oikawa works like a fine tuned machine as always, but he also never hesitates to glare at Wakatoshi's back every time he wasn't looking. 

"Well, I gotta admit it's pretty damn hilarious seeing Wakatoshi boss Oikawa around." Kiyoomi comments and Keiji can't help the giggles bubbling past his lips at the ridiculous sight on court.

At some point Bokuto scores and cheers loudly, pulling Oikawa in a spirit crushing hug. Keiji swears he sees Oikawa's soul leaving his body; his tiny amusement morphs into a hearty laugh. 

Leave it to Oikawa to have the human embodiment of whiplash as teammates.

**Author's Note:**

> Um. I'm writing a really angsty iwaoi with meticulously built characters that is already at 50k+ and wrote this with fic with barely planned, random ass personalities that i didn't spend more than a couple of hours making up to counterbalance it, lol.  
> (i cannot believe that this is the first fic i finish since i was 12, but honestly mood)
> 
> Also the sudden appearance of urban art on a three story building with no scaffolds is absolutely real, this one is particular for me to reconfirm as something that someone somehow actually managed to do over a weekend. I always show ppl the picture just for the look of disbelief on their faces. 
> 
> The email from the president is an over the top version of a real email I got from my real university president. I won’t say more than this cause I don't wanna doxx myself lmao
> 
> Comments and kudos keep my alive and well fed, hope u have a great day, stay well hydrated and may we meet again on this or a different fic, bye-bye!!


End file.
